


In Another Time

by RageQuits



Series: Over Space and Time [1]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dream Pirates, Fearlings, Fighting, General Kozmotis Pitchiner - Freeform, Guardians of Childhood AU, Hurt/Comfort, Light book spoilers, M/M, Military, Movie and Book Combination, Nightmares, Private First Class Jackson Overland, Romance, Sci-Fi, Smut, Torture, War, Whump, and Nightmare Men oh my, but like a butchered up space military, of sorts, plethora of minor character OCs, space stuff, those sail ships from treasure planet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-02-14 05:43:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 28
Words: 208,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2180157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RageQuits/pseuds/RageQuits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"You always were a troublemaker. The very first time I was confronted with you, you were already caught up in a fight with the older crew members. You made a mess wherever you went. And you always laughed about it. All those extra duties day after day, they would never take your smile away.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <em>"But although you were a personification of mischief, you had your talents. A swift fighter. A good sailor. A child of the eternal solar winds. You were able to cheer up the crew even in the darkest hours. And, as always, you would laugh.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <em>"I loved when you laughed."</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>In the ongoing war against the Dream Pirates, Fearlings, and Nightmare Men, General Kozmotis Pitchiner already has enough on his plate without dealing with a trouble-making Jackson Overland. Perhaps, it would have been better to kick him out when he had the chance, but growing attached to young Private instead seemed so much more desirable at the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Our duty is wakefulness, the fundamental condition of life itself. The unseen, the unheard, the untouchable is what weaves the fabric of our see-able universe together.”

― _Robin Craig Clark, The Garden_

\--

It was easy to forget that there was a war going on when sailing across the Sea of Stars. An endless array of silver twinkled in striking contrast to the deep, dark void of space, like souls stuck out of time. They reached out to Jack, and Jack reached back, dipping the hand that wasn’t gripping the mast of his personal sloop and clenching his fist as if he could feel the waves of empty space through his fingers. He gave a bright whoop and closed the sails, guiding the ship into a full loop-d-loop around a cluster of silver stars of all different sizes, perfect in their intangibility.

His ship carried him well beyond the boundaries of light, and he didn’t bother to spare a glance in the direction of the fading, false supernova, made bright to keep the shadows at bay. It was dangerous out in the thresholds of space. With an endless blanket of darkness to cover the space around him, it was nearly impossible to spot any oncoming enemies made of nearly the same material. But Jack was sure of his abilities as a spotter. He could see the shift in the stars, the vague flicker much like a candle being blown by the wind, and if he happened to catch it, he would return or stand his guard as necessary. But there hadn't been a shadow sighting in well over two months now and he was tired of being cooped up in that stuffy airship; large as it was, it got boring after two years of repetitive rustic walls and monitors that never showed anything more than stars and the occasional flying object.

By the time he felt at ease enough to let his sails back out, the Nova was just a spot of gold in the distance, the shadow of space blocking out any possibility of the rays reaching out at any distance. Jack laughed and looped leisurely this time, his sails slowing the sloop enough for him to close his eyes and imagine the wind blowing through his hair. With a sigh, he pressed the button on the spar, releasing the gravity grip holding his feet to the sloop’s flat surface. He kept one hand on as his feet dropped out beneath him and, not for the first time, wondered how it would feel to let go.

Jack had seen it happen before; sure, they’d all seen it. Good men in the midst of battle losing their footing, the systems on their sailships damaged beyond repair. He’d seen the look on their face, the realization, the horror, of the sudden lack of gravity, as space hurled them away from the grip of safety and out into the vast, empty expanse of space. Many of those people could be saved, but still, some were not, and Jack often wondered where they drifted off to. There were planets, other ships, shooting stars- but space was so big. Then again, that was why Jack loved it so. He could feel the expanse of nothingness spanning around him. He could breathe, he could let go. There weren’t any rules out in the emptiness of space. Nobody could tell him to peel potatoes or put him on spotter duty, of all things. He was meant for action and, at the very least, recon, but no. One too many ice cubes in the soup and one ruined dinner and he was stuck on the lookout post watching asteroids smash into each other all day. Who knew star fish went bad in the cold?

Still holding on, Jack used the sleeve of his uniform to clear the smudge covering the word _Frost_ carved lovingly into the right side of the sloop. He grinned at his reflection in the bronze. “Hey, good lookin’. Haven’t seen you around these parts before. Come around here often?” With a click, gravity pulled his feet over his head, back to the safety of the board, and Jack closed the sails again.

Up ahead, a cluster of asteroids rotated around a large chunk of rock. It wasn’t quite something he’d call a planet—too small for that. The rock was covered in thick layers of ice, too dense for Jack to see through. He wouldn’t dare touch it. He’d seen rocks like that before. It would surely burn the skin right off his hand. His blood would stick to it. He’d have no chance of going anywhere without hacking the limb off, and he very much preferred to keep his body parts right where they were supposed to be.

As he neared the small asteroid belt, he had to stop a few yards away, his heart racing in excitement. Space rays glided easily around the belt, but never into it, their wing-like bodies waving effortlessly. The asteroids moved at great speeds, some as small as a fist, and some as large as three of him tall and wide. Getting caught in an asteroid belt was like getting swept up in a current in the sea, but Jack knew them well. Trying to fight a way out of them only ended up in disaster, in destroyed ships and bloodied bodies. At best, a few broken limbs and a minor concussion; at worst, well-

Once he felt he was close enough, Jack closed the sails and dove in.

Instantly, Jack felt the catch of the asteroid belt. The belt threatened to sweep the sloop out from under him, make him drop the mast and lose control, fall backwards and _splat!_ There’d go Jackson Overland: dead, dim, dumb. But he wouldn't let that happen. Jack was an experienced maniac and grit his teeth against the push of the current, maneuvering his sail ship through the hole of one of the larger asteroids. He could feel the chill of the planet they circled even from this distance and a shiver darted through his spine, but put a smile on his face. It was as close to wind as he was ever going to get out here.

Asteroids shot past his face three times as fast as the sloop would go on its own. _Frost_ was an older model, a personal toy he’d managed to smuggle onto the air ship went he got drafted. Most soldiers were assigned ships of their own, but those were higher tech, military models of all types and uses, and this was a civilian sailor, bolt and plate put into place by his hands personally. While he didn’t hate the other sail ships, he much preferred to use his own, named _Frost_ for what he missed most about being stationed on a planet. Winter was always a time of joy for him and his family, but out in space, seasons were nonexistent. _Frost_ was attuned to him. He easily guided it through the daring speeds of the asteroid belt as if an extension of himself, knowing best to go with the flow of the current rather than trying to fight against it.

Jack looked up as a space ray floated circles around the asteroid belt, its creamy underbelly a contrast to the dark hues of space. He pulled the sloop higher, above a small bunch of tinier asteroids, and reached his hand up to glide across the soft belly of the space ray. It curled to the side of the asteroid belt, turning leisurely to its other side and showing off its dark blue surface, speckled with white freckles of all shapes and sizes. Jack thought they looked like microcosms embedded in the creature, as if the ray was a piece of space itself, a physical manifestation that he could feel with just the tips of his fingers at this angle. It gave him warmth despite having to duck his hand to avoid an asteroid buzzing between them, threatening to rip it off at the wrist.

With a delighted laugh, Jack took advantage of the current’s speed and raced through the debris, feeling as though the space rays circling them were playing along with him. Way out here, too far from the blinding light of the _Nova_ , away from the orders of his superiors, Jack could truly feel at ease. He could pretend, in this moment, that he was a civilian, and that there wasn’t a war going on, and that people were still safe when, deep down, his conscience would never allow him to believe that they were.

It was this nagging sense of duty that made him sigh and start looking for a way out of the belt. He knew being in the expanse of space could make him easily lose track of time. If he didn’t get back before Irra did her usual check-ups, he would be in more trouble than usual.

Just when he spotted his opening, something grabbed at his peripheral vision, tearing his gaze away from the space empty of asteroids to see what it was. Turning his head, he couldn’t see anything but the stars and the dim light of the _Nova_ in the distance.

“Shit.” He just barely ducked an oncoming asteroid speeding by, an outstretched crater brushing the tips of his silvery hair. The brush sent him spiraling, getting swept away in the current, spinning rapidly around rocks and craters. He barely avoided the worst of them, but a handful of smaller ones smacked him in the face, scratching at his skin and burning his eyes.

The space rays floated away from the asteroid belt, drawn away by whatever he’d caught in his peripherals and sending his mind into overdrive. His heartbeat sped up. He gripped the mast tight enough to turn his knuckles white, gritted his teeth as he shot through another small cluster of rocks smashing into him at extreme speeds, tried to gain control of the current again before he could slam into something much worse. He finally managed to find his control, but his attention was forced elsewhere, through the cracks of the asteroids, towards the stars, searching desperately for a sign of what he was sure he’d seen. _A Nightmare? A Fearling? Dream pirates? Where are they, where are-_

With a shout of surprise, something hard and solid slammed into the side of his sloop from outside the asteroid belt. With luck, he shot out of the current and into the clearing of empty space without slamming into any oncoming asteroids. He didn’t let it catch him too off-guard, his eyes constantly searching. Now, however, he at least had a direction to look towards. The object came from beyond the asteroid belt, towards the massive, frozen rock. He drew his sword and opened his sails to catch his balance, his head still swimming from being in the dizzying asteroid belt for so long.

He _knew_ he shouldn’t have gone out here. He’d been _told_ , he’d been _warned_ that it was still too dangerous, two months was hardly any time at all to let down their guard and yet he’d still-

“Overland!”

Relief washed over him in waves when he saw a schooner shoot up over the asteroid belt, although not for long when Jack caught the look on its rider’s face. He barely had time to react before Corporal Jameson Benett was whipping by him in the military schooner he’d been assigned to. Jamie sped on ahead of him and Jack knew better than to fall behind once he’d been caught. Once Jameson was sure Jack was following, he slowed to let him catch up.

A heavy silence passed between them, with nothing else but the light buzz of the motors from their sail ships to clear the air. Jack glanced over at his superior’s face many times, the scowl only deepening every time his gaze caught the molten brown peripherals of his long-time friend. He hadn’t seen that face truly smile at him in so long, Jack was starting to wonder if there’d ever been a time he’d seen it aimed at him at all. It made his heart heavy and his mood bitter.

Jack opened his mouth to break the silence, but Jamie cut him off with a stern look before words could even breach the surface. Jack’s mouth shut and his posture slumped, a frown turning his lips down as he watched the _Nova_ grow closer. The light was supposed to camouflage the air ship, make enemies think it was a small supernova and avoid going near it for fear of being swept up in the heat of the blast. Without concern of an attack, it was easier to keep the shields down to retain power, and it was easier for soldiers to go in and out for their duties without having to call the shield down whenever they needed to leave the ship. For that, Jack had been grateful. They hadn’t been on low enough security to lower the shield for so long that he just had to jump at the chance when they finally took it down.

When they reached the flight deck, Jack powered down the sloop and replaced it slowly, dreading what he knew was coming. At least it was Jamie and not Irra, the supervisor put in charge of his area. She was much less lenient, especially when it came to inferiors who crossed her web-thin line of patience a long time ago.

Sliding his fingers over the bronze metal, Jack frowned and crouched by the word _Frost_  carved into its side. His gloved hands traced the outline of a dent that had most certainly not been there when he’d left and a huff of disbelief fell out of him. He rose to his feet, turning a heated glare to the brunet Corporal standing nearby. “You threw something into me! Look what you did!” He gestured towards the dent, only barely resisting the urge to grab Jamie by the back of the neck to shove his face into it. “Why did you do that? I could’ve-”

“Overland.” The heat in Jamie’s voice stopped Jack from continuing, although just barely. Jamie stormed towards him, their glares meeting with their near-equal height, Jamie having about an inch on Jack. “Why did _I_  do _that_? Why did _you_  go diving into an asteroid belt?! Do you know how dangerous that is? Nobody even knew you were out there! You could’ve-” Jamie threw his hands into the air, his words lost to his anger. Jack always thought Jamie would someday get used to his stunts, but after knowing each other for over twelve years, the other man still wore a look of disbelief.

“I knew what I was doing,” Jack shot back, his words slipping through his teeth to cage in the more biting ones he wanted to let out. Jamie was still his superior. He sometimes had a hard time remembering that. “You know that wasn’t the first time I’ve done it.”

“It’ll be the last if I have anything to say about it,” Jameson growled out. Jack supposed, with Jamie’s deep-set eyes, the frown-lines, and the bulk of muscle only barely contained beneath the thin beige uniform they wore when they weren’t preparing for battle, that the brunet could look almost intimidating, but they’d known each other for years. Jamie was a die-hard animal lover, cried for ten minutes straight when he lost a tooth playing ball when he was thirteen, held a burial for road kill he’d seen when he was fifteen, and believed in everything he read with all his heart. Jack knew him like a brother, and no look on his face could make him think of fear.

Jamie scrubbed at his face, looking worn, and Jack couldn’t help the spike of guilt that maybe he was the one keeping him so on edge, even though he knew there were other factors. At the very least, he wasn’t helping his friend’s workload. “Overla-"

“ _Jack_ , Jamie. No one’s around, you don’t have to keep up the formalities.” Jack shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and turned away, irritated. He hated when Jamie called him by his last name. It made him feel more like a stranger than a friend.

Jamie sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Jack, you know the dangers. You can’t just let your guard down like that. We’ve been soldiers for over two years now, you need to start acting like it. I shouldn’t have to repeat myself.”

“Then don’t. Okay? I get it. I’ve heard the lecture so many times I could read it back to you.” Jack threw his hands into the air and dropped back into a crouch by his prized sloop. He traced the outline of the dent, wondering when would be the best time to come back and fix it. “’The vastness of space means more room for danger, not more room for safety. The Fearlings don’t let down their guard, and neither should you. You are a soldier, Overland, and one day you’ll have to make a choice: keep up these careless ways of yours and risk the deaths of all your fellow men and women, or shape up and protect the solar systems, like a real man.’” He didn’t bother to glance at Jamie as he rose to his feet this time. “Did I get it in the right ballpark or what? I'm paraphrasing, of course. I left out the part where you make me brush my teeth and go straight to bed without dinner."

Again, Jamie sighed. “Jack, Commander Irra _knows_. She has you on the cameras. They caught your movement the second you left the ship. You’re just lucky they didn’t think you were a Dream Pirate and come after you, swords drawn.” He placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder, but Jack shrugged it off. He was in no mood for Jamie’s motherly scorn. “I’m just looking out for you. You’re lucky I found you before she did. You’re lucky-"

“I’m just so damn lucky, aren’t I, Jamie?” Jack growled at him and shoved by, knocking their shoulders together as he passed. He didn’t need to look back to know he'd crossed a line at the contact, Jamie’s look of concern melting into one of proper authority. “Please, keep going on and on about how  _lucky_  I am to be cooped up in this stuffy air ship all day waiting for the Fearlings to come and snuff us all out, one by one. We’re sitting ducks out here, Jamie. General Pitchiner won’t even _listen_  to any of my plans. I’ve barely seen him half a dozen times since I joined this stupid thing!”

He spun on Jamie, his hands clenched tightly at his sides. He was overstepping his boundaries, but what more trouble could he get into than he was already in? “I came out here to get things done. Not to- to sit around and peel the skins off potatoes all day. We’ve been floating around for two years and we’ve encountered the shadows _twice_ , and I don’t feel any closer to getting to the reason why I’m out here in the first place.” He strode up to the other boy, striking blue eyes meeting daring brown; Jack trying to provoke and Jamie grounding his authority. “Did you forget like the rest of them? Why we joined up in the first place?”

Jamie didn’t reply and Jack held his gaze for as long as he could before breaking away, sighing loudly and running his fingers through his hair. Dust and pebbles shook free. “Whatever. I’ll go back to my post.”

Jamie’s stern hand on his shoulder stopped him from going any further. “Jack, you know I can’t let you get away without punishment.”

Jack glanced over his shoulder and shot his long-time friend a grin. “Not even for little ol’ me?”

“No, Overland.”

Jamie barely shoved him forward through the automatic doors before stopping. Jack looked up from gazing at the floor to meet the eyes of Commander Irra. Her eyes, dark as coals, bore holes in the ice of his own, melting them down like molten metal. The urge to stand at attention and salute came to him, but they were in what was considered casual drabs. While still a type of uniform, it wasn't the official military uniform, so neither he nor Jamie were expected to do so.

He swallowed thickly and gave her his best grin, shooting a thumb over his shoulder at Jamie. “Don’t worry, Commander. Bennett’s already got this whole punishment thing handled. I heard something about solar crocs this time?” He faked a shudder. “Gonna be real nasty, whatever he’s cooked up this time. So you’re covered.”

Irra ignored him. Her gaze flicked up to meet with Jamie's. “Relieved. I’m taking Overland off your hands.”

Jack swallowed again. Irra was known for her strict punishments. She kept it all within reason, but she was a respectable superior. Not someone anyone would ever want to get on the bad side of, but it was well too late for that for Jack. “Really, it’s not a big deal. I was just doing some, y’know, surveillance. That’s my job anyway, isn’t it?”

“Your job, _Private_ , is to remain inside the ship. We are not discussing this further. Anything you say from here on out will only further your punishment.” She clipped her gaze up to Jamie again, who was standing stiffly behind Jack. “I told you you’re relieved, Corporal. I will handle things from there.”

Jamie gave her a curt nod and squeezed past them in the narrow hall. Jack hated it down there because the ceilings were low and the walls were thin. It was supposed to keep the soldiers in an orderly line during emergencies when they all rushed to their sail ships, but it just made him think of suffocating. Jamie turned after passing Irra to give Jack a look of pity. Jack mentally spat at it. _Traitor_.

He and Jamie joined the Golden Army at the same time, nearly two years prior, after the Dream Pirates and shadow ilk ambushed the planet they lived on and terrorized their people. Jack had been eighteen at the time; Jamie a year and a handful of months older. However, while Jack only ever caused grief and trouble for the crew members wherever he went, Jamie showed promise. He followed his orders to a tee and never questioned his duties. This lead him to being upgraded in rank, while Jack fell behind as only a Private First Class.

“Now, Private Overland, to discuss the matter of your punishment _this_  time. Follow-”

The ship shook. Irra kept her balance by stretching her arms against the narrow walls, but Jack slammed hard into one and sank to the floor when the ship shook a second time. The red emergency lights lit up the gloomy halls all the way down, casting an eerie red glow. Jack could hear the waning sounds of the alarms, the faint sounds of footsteps following overhead as soldiers ran about trying to find the cause of trouble. Irra cursed under her breath when the ship finally stopped rocking and took off down the hall, Jack following close behind.

He followed her through three sliding doors and up two flights of stairs, down another, wider, hallway, and through a final pair of doors. She was fine, but he was gasping for air after trying to keep up with her. Stairs were tricky, especially when his arm felt numb from slamming into the wall. “What’s the status?” Irra asked, her strong voice full of command.

A thin man, tall, but not very buff, approached as he sorted through a pile of papers in his hands. His nervous hands dropped most of the papers to the floor and he started running his fingers through his wild mess of blond hair. Most soldiers kept their hair short, or at least kempt, but his was anything but. His green eyes were deeply sunk, ashes burned under them in bags on his otherwise pasty skin. Jack vaguely recognized him, but he wasn’t wearing his ranks, and Jack rarely bothered memorizing those types of things unless they were immediately important to him. He did know the man’s name was Spooler, and he knew he had a tendency to drink way more coffee than anyone Jack had ever known.

“We aren’t sure,” Spooler spilled out. Jack winced. That was the wrong thing to say and the wrong person to say it to.

Irra’s eyes widened in anger. She grabbed the front of Spooler’s shirt, just barely leaving him grounded. His yelp of shock went untended. “The alarms are going off, the whole damn ship _rocked_  and you are telling me you _don’t know why_?”

Spooler shook visibly in her grasp and mumbled out a few bouts of nonsense before finally gathering himself again. “I-I mean, there’s nothing. There’s no visuals- Oh god, don’t kill me.” Jack swore the guy twitched. Even Jack wanted to tell the guy to pull himself together. “There’s nothing out there! No Fearlings, no shadows, no airships.”

Irra wrinkled her nose and dropped him. Spooler took a moment to balance himself before chasing her side. This room was a smaller observation deck, although the ceiling was tall and rounded, the walls wide and roomy. The smaller ones were down on the lower levels, while the larger ones were towards the center, and then there were smaller ones towards the top again. The monitors acted like windows, although unnoticed by anyone on the outside looking at the ship. Large, systematic control panels with more buttons and levers and keys than Jack thought he'd ever memorize the use of spread out behind the monitors.

Jack shadowed Irra, peering past her at the monitors. He studied the stars for any sign of movement, but there was nothing. Maybe a meteorite hit them? It was possible, although the ship’s pilots were usually meant to avoid them. The _Nova_  had a state of the art defense system even without the main shields up, but a good sized meteorite could still cause some trouble. Maybe they were slacking. Jack frowned at the screens. He didn’t see any debris, though. There was nothing, just as Spooler said, as if the ship hadn’t been shaken by anything at all.

The alarms shut off as if realizing this. The warning lights turned off and everything lit up again, going back to normal. “So is that it?” Jack mumbled, eyes still glued to the monitors. A sick feeling in his stomach made him wonder if he’d been caught by more than just Jamie out there by the asteroid belt, if he’d been followed and given way their location.

A voice sounded over the intercom, sharp, but deep. A voice Jack knew well. “This is General Pitchiner.” The entire room silenced to listen in. When Pitchiner spoke, people listened. Even Jack. “Officers, Lieutenants, Commanders, and Captain are to report to the conference room for an immediately scheduled meeting. There is no cause for alarm. Continue your duties as instructed.” That was the end of it.

Irra paused for a moment, looking grim. Pitchiner said there was no cause for alarm, but calling a meeting so suddenly…

“Overland.” Jack snapped his head up from his thoughts, giving Irra his attention. “We’ll finish the matter of your punishment later. For now, return to your post.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

"Corporal Spooler." _Corporal?_  Jack turned to look at the wiry-haired, wide-eyed blond, who'd immediately given Irra his undivided attention from where he was crouched on the floor picking up the papers he'd dropped earlier. Irra sneered, like looking down on spoiled meats. "Get yourself together or I'll be having a discussion with the General about lowering your rank. If you cannot handle emergency situations, then you have no place here."

Even Jack saw Spooler swallow. "Y-yes, ma'am."

When Irra left, Jack lingered behind for only a moment. Spooler continued picking up the mess of papers he’d dropped during his earlier panic. _Like I’m gonna go to the lookout bay after that kind of announcement._  Scoffing, Jack followed Irra from a distance to find out the cause of their meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of what I hope will be an enjoyable series to come. I have lots of things planned in the works, so if you liked it so far please let me know!
> 
> This work is loosely based off of and inspired by [this lovely comic](http://fanartdrawer.tumblr.com/post/68020725290/so-this-is-my-really-late-submission-for). Please check out their blog and all their other wonderful pieces of art! Also, while this fic is based off the comic, don't get ahead of yourself and start assuming things. Just because certain parts are based off the comic, doesn't mean my fic will follow it exactly through-and-through. ~~You know what I'm referring to.~~
> 
> I've based the military rankings loosely off a mix between American Navy and Army ranks, so for your reference, here's what I'm going by, in order from lowest rank to highest rank:
> 
> Private  
> Private First Class  
> Corporal  
> Sergeant  
> Petty Officer  
> Chief Petty Officer  
> Senior Chief Petty Officer  
> Master Chief Petty Officer  
> Warrant Officer  
> Lieutenant  
> Commander  
> Captain  
> General


	2. Chapter 2

"The perpetrators of genocides are usually men of the herd, men who follow orders without questioning them."

― _John Rucyahana, The Bishop of Rwanda: Finding Forgiveness Amidst a Pile of Bones_

\--

The conference room was on the sixth level of the _Nova_. The airship consisted of multiple levels of floors and rooms. There were elevators, but those were only for high-ranking officers and the wounded. Otherwise, soldiers were permitted to use the stairs only. Jack’s observation deck was usually stationed in the cockpit of the second floor on the left side. There were lookout stations on every side of the ship to help monitor the entire area, including the conning tower up top where the Warrant Officers usually worked. There were only a handful of them, but being topside usually meant they were watching the entire area instead of just in one direction, so their job was a little harder. Well, it would've been if anything ever happened, but they hadn't encountered any enemies for months.

Jack followed Irra at a distance, making sure to walk on light feet. She had the eyes of a hawk and ears of a bat, and he was in enough trouble already. Still, he tried to walk casually, hands shoved in the pockets of his pants. Civilian clothes obviously weren’t permitted on board, but in order to fulfill duties and go along with training, each soldier was given a week’s worth of casual wear. They all looked the same—collared, long-sleeved button-down and slacks. A wide, leather scabbard held their swords at all times. They were rarely allowed to take them off, even when doing simple tasks like galley duty. It was a soldier’s job to be prepared for anything at any time. Even Jack knew better than to let his guard down so easily.

Irra arrived at the automatic doors leading to the conference room and Jack found himself hovering around a corner a good distance away. The sixth floor didn’t have much activity on it during that time of the day, so the halls were virtually empty. If he stilled his breaths, he could just hear voices echoing lightly down the corridor. Grabbing the edge of the wall, Jack peered around and saw the tall, lithe figure of General Pitch approach Irra outside the doors. He smiled, they exchanged pleasantries. While Irra was not one known to smile often, her usually sullen face brightened upon his arrival. When they shook hands, she brought another up to cup over the General’s, a warm gesture.

There were rumors amongst the ranks that the Commander and General were having a romantic affair, but there was nothing solid behind them. Nobody had actually seen the two of them together in any way other than the professional kind and, looking at them now, Jack couldn’t really see it. While it was obvious there was _some_  sort of affection between the two of them, it looked strictly platonic, rather than romantic. In any case, they didn’t look like they would make a very good couple anyway. The General was more closed off than anybody. He remained in his quarters most of the time, only coming out every so often to check on his soldiers to make sure everything was in working order. He only called meetings when it was important. Otherwise, he spent his time in solitude or with his daughter, Seraphina, who occasionally came on the ship.

Few words were exchanged before Captain Dervish arrived, shaking Irra’s hand and giving Pitch a firm pat on the shoulder.

Jack had only come in contact with the Captain twice. The first time was when he’d signed up. The Captain had been the one drafting after the attack on his planet and he’d been the one who’d convinced him to join along—not that that had been much of a hard decision in the first place. Jack knew he wanted to do something to destroy the shadows that devastated his home planet even before meeting Dervish. The man was a bright, but surly fellow, the type of person people when to when they needed a good pep-talk. He had passion in his bones and threw everything he had into everything he did, no matter how big or how small. Jack sort of looked up to the man for that. He was a good soldier. He was glad to have someone like him as the Captain.

The second time he and Dervish spoke was when he was given his rank of Private First Class. These things were generally given by the General first and foremost, but Pitch was busy with more important things and usually left it to the Captain, or occasionally the Commanders, to decide. He trusted their judgment.

Jack had been honestly surprised when Dervish gave him the raise in rank. It was within only his sixth month of service. He was still having a hard time getting used to things. He wasn’t good at following orders, acted out whenever he could, got into fights more often than not, and seemed like more of a nuisance than an ally. Well, he was still like that a year and a half later, but not as awful. He’d adjusted, but he hadn’t lost his headstrong, stubborn, mischievous nature, and that still got him in plenty of trouble, especially with the other crewmembers, but at this point it was usually overlooked. People had better things to do than deal with a guy who pranked the Privates.

Despite being told of the restricted areas, Jack still felt like exploring the ship. It was hard, at first, to memorize the many floors and corridors, and he got lost a lot in the beginning. He’d wandered into the training area and interrupted Dervish training with one of the Petty Officers, a bulky guy with frosted hair that went by the name Cas. He was all hard edges and scathing remarks, but he was good at what he did. Cas demanded Jack train with him for interrupting them, even though Dervish hadn’t seemed to mind, and Jack, of course, agreed to it.

Cas was way better trained than Jack, having much more experience than the Private who had only been on the Nova for a total of six months, and he didn’t pull his strikes in the least. Even though Jack knew he didn’t have a chance, he gave it his all, and nearly lost a few fingers and an eye for his efforts. Cas got cocky and lowered his guard and Jack used that ego against him, praising him up and talking himself down until Cas all but handed him the fight.

Looking back on it now, it still made him laugh, even if Cas called him out for hustling. It gave him the chance to trip the guy up and thrust his sword in his face. Cas ranted and raved, but Dervish clapped and cheered, clasping Jack on the back for turning his opponent's weaknesses against him. He told Jack his tricks would surely get him out of a bind one day and immediately decided to up his rank to Private First Class.

The Petty Officer had been so pissed he ignored rank and tried attacking Jack, but Dervish broke the two of them up and raged back until he put Cas back in his place. In fact, for that outburst, Dervish stripped the Petty Officer of his rank. Jack recently heard the guy had just made it to Chief Petty Officer about two weeks ago. He would’ve been well past that rank if he hadn’t lost his temper.

“That seems to be everyone.” Pitch’s voice, pleasantly deep and lilted, rang down the corridor and reached Jack’s ears, bringing him back to attention. He watched the three officers enter the conference room, the automatic doors sliding shut behind them. There was no doubt that Pitch locked them so they wouldn’t be interrupted during their meeting.

Checking that the halls were empty, Jack left his hiding spot and carefully approached the room. The walls were sturdy, but thin, and if he pressed an ear against it and remained perfectly silent, he could just make out muffled voices on the other side. For a brief moment, he considered the punishments involved in eavesdropping on an official conference amongst superior officers, but as usual, he brushed it off and decided it was more important that he find out what was going on. The ship wouldn’t rock without a reason. There was always a cause for alarm when the General called a meeting. Jack hated being left in the dark. The officers were always kept in the loop while the lower-ranking soldiers remained in the dark. It was how people died. He was sick of waiting around for his superiors to decide everything without his knowing.

Pitch’s voice came to him first from the other side of the wall. He must have been close for Jack to hear him so clearly. “The Fearlings are enacting stealth duties.” There was a brief silence before he continued. “The quake we just felt was the result of a group of them taking out a generator in the bilge. There is currently no power down there, but as soon as I made sure it was safe, I sent some men to fix the generator and activate the backups temporarily.”

“The Fearlings were _inside_  the airship?” Dervish’s voice was muffled; he was further away. Jack had to strain to hear him, but his voice was rough and loud and carried well enough through the wall. “Excuse me, General, but between the time of the quake and you summoning this conference, how did you have any time at all to decide it was safe enough to send our men down there?”

“As you know, we have strict surveillance set up both inside and outside the ship. The Fearlings were reported inside the ship shortly before they deactivated the generators.” Jack’s heart leapt at that. If he knew the enemy had breached the ship’s defenses and entered, why wouldn’t he pull the alarms immediately? They could’ve caused a lot more damage than just ruining one generator. How did he know there weren’t more? How could he be sure they weren’t roaming the ship at this very moment, taking out any defenseless soldier in their way? He felt a spike of anger, but forced himself to breathe and continue listening in.

“The Fearlings? _Inside_  the _Nova_?” Dervish seemed to voice Jack’s concerns. “Why weren’t we made aware of this? They could have attacked us and nobody on board would’ve been prepared for-”

“Calm your temper, Captain.” Pitch’s voice was calm, but icy. A warning. Dervish settled, although Jack was sure he didn’t look happy about it. “Lately, the Fearlings have been acting suspiciously. Normally, they attack without purpose, viciously and manically until their goals have been achieved and they have claimed their victims. They do not act with reason or tactics. However, we haven’t seen anything of them for over two months now even though we have been specifically seeking them out. As you all may remember, the last attack was towards a civilian airship, the _Shooter_. They attacked, but left the Captain and a few men on his crew alive.”

Jack pursed his lips in concern. He remembered that attack. They got a message from a nearby airship with the Captain begging for their help from the Fearlings attacking his crew. He’d been part of the lookout crew who sought out the _Shooter_  so they could board, but once they’d gone over, there hadn’t been any Fearlings left. Half the crew had been wiped out, but the Captain, and the remaining members, were perfectly fine, if not shaken. Jack thought it was strange at the time, too. He couldn’t recall a time before when the Fearlings left easy prey behind, even when help was called.

Normally, they would help the crew clean themselves up, but the Captain of the _Shooter_  apparently told General Pitchiner it wasn’t necessary and the General called all his men off the ship. Still, Jack knew they’d kept in contact with the _Shooter_  in case of another attack, and to report to them if they happened to encounter any suspicious activity. Jack had only spent a handful of hours on the ship and barely spoke with any of the crewmembers before he’d been ordered to leave, but every crewmember he spoke with had just seemed…off to him, somehow. They barely spoke, which he supposed was normal after a traumatic event, so he’d brushed it off at the time and hadn’t given it much thought since then.

“Didn’t we lose their position two weeks ago?” The voice came from Irra. He could barely make out what she was saying, but he caught enough to understand.

“Yes,” Pitch replied. “We have been unable to contact the _Shooter_  in over two weeks. They have completely, and quite spontaneously, fallen off the grid.”

“So, what does this have to do with the Fearlings breaking into our ship?” Dervish asked. He seemed impatient, and Jack couldn’t help but nod along despite being alone.

“I allowed their entry into the ship.” Following this were a few murmurs of surprise and Jack felt his blood run cold in outrage. The General _allowed_  these _monsters_  to enter their territory? They could’ve been slaughtered.

Jack had to push away from the wall to calm himself down, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. He resisted the urge to punch the wall only to avoid being caught eavesdropping. How could the General let the enemy on their ship? They lived on this ship. Not everyone fulfilled duties at all times of the day. Once men were relieved from their posts by their replacements, they were usually free to go about their own personal business, from training, to eating, to hanging out or catching a nap. Any of those men could’ve been taken down for not being properly informed. _He_  could’ve been taken down. The flight deck was just one floor up from the bilge. Jamie could’ve been in danger. And all for what?

Taking easy breaths to relax, Jack forced himself to focus his rage on listening in on the rest of the conversation. He needed to know the reason.

When he pressed his ear against the cool wall, the noise had calmed and Pitch was speaking again. “It was the only way to study them. If I noticed any reason for alarm, I would have immediately alerted the troops, but if I had done that, people would have been hurt. Nobody was down there at the time. They were acting entirely without their normal intentions.”

Dervish cleared his throat. It was probably taking a lot for him to reign in his temper. “General, what exactly are you trying to get at here?”

A voice Jack couldn’t pinpoint a name or face to spoke next, closer than the others. “Are you saying the Fearlings have changed their tactics?”

“I’m saying they _have_  tactics,” Pitch replied. “In the past, the Fearlings have only ever acted chaotically, with the intentions of destroying and consuming. However, I suspect they may have had something to do with the disappearance of the _Shooter_ , which is beyond their usual actions. I’m saying their current activities do not add up. The Fearlings do not act with _mercy_. They don’t go on stealth missions and sneak into ships to shut off a single generator. It was almost as if they were trying to _avoid_  attacking us.”

Jack frowned, putting the pieces of Pitch’s speech together in his head. He didn’t like the conclusion he came to. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach, but he couldn't place it.

“Keep in mind that I’m hesitant to say this, but I believe the Fearlings are under control of a center power, a leader if you will.” Jack’s breath caught in his throat. He heard the murmurings rise up again before Pitch calmed the officers back down so he could continue. “As I said, this is just an assumption. I would need more information before concluding this. Hence why I allowed the Fearlings to enter the ship. I’ve tracked them to a nearby location: an unnamed planet in the Pictor Constellation. It appears to be habitable, so I would like to send a few of our lower ranks for recon. I want to investigate the suspicious behavior before planning an attack. For now, we’ll remain under cover.”

From there, the rest of the conference went about planning which groups would go where and how they should cover ground, so Jack pushed away from the wall to return to his post before he was found out. He walked in a daze, concerned and confused. He still hadn’t forgiven the General for allowing the enemy to blatantly step into their territory, leaving them all sitting ducks. It was obvious Pitch hadn’t been entirely positive that the Fearlings wouldn’t attack. And what if a soldier had gone down to the bilge while the Fearlings wrecked the generator? They would’ve been slaughtered and Pitch would’ve been the one at fault.

And why destroy the generator anyway? What was the point in that? They had plenty of backups all throughout the ship and there wasn’t much of anything important down in the bottom of the ship anyway. They’d barely caused a mild and temporary inconvenience before going on their way. So, what, they infiltrated their prey’s ship, cause a halfhearted disturbance, and leave? Nobody had gotten hurt. That was practically unheard of.

He thought back to what Pitch suggested about the Fearlings being under command from some other being, a possible hivemind. That, too, was unheard of. They seemed like they were too bloodthirsty and chaotic to be controlled. They could possess people, Jack knew, but he’d only heard of children being possessed, being turned into Fearlings. He’d seen it first-hand.

The memory sent a chill throughout him.

For the time being, Jack returned to his post, barely apologizing for being late and not bothering to give the other two on duty with him a reason for having snuck out. He hardly focused the rest of the time, dozing occasionally, but his crewmates preferred that over him causing mischief and mayhem and left him to doze while they picked up the slack. In his daze, Jack knew he had to get on that recon mission.

\--

It wasn't until the next day that announcements were to be made about which soldiers were chosen for the recon mission. Jack assumed he had a high chance since he was still a lower level soldier and this was obviously not a sure thing. The General hadn't sounded entirely convinced of his assumptions and the supposedly inhabited planet that the Fearlings were tracked to was large. It would take a few weeks, at _least_ , to cover the land, even with tracking systems.

"Overland, shouldn't you be in the mess hall?" Jack lifted his head from where he sat in the middle of the large galley room, turned his gaze towards the door where Jamie stood. His heart sunk in a familiar way. He and Jamie talked and they always made sure to watch each others' backs, but their relationship felt strained. They felt less like brothers and more like crewmates. Once upon a time, people said they were inseparable, and now Jamie rarely called him by his first name, like their childhood hardly meant anything anymore.

It was almost surreal to think that this was the man Jack once swore he'd marry, but that was probably just kid stuff. They were men now, worn by the weights of loss and hardened by battle. Their enemies weren't snowmen and their weapons weren't snowballs or wooden sticks, their bases weren't sanddunes and piles of leaves. It was more fun when it was all just for pretend. They could never go back to that.

Sometimes Jack liked to think they could find their happiness someday and rekindle the feelings they once had for each other. Before the war, he and Jamie were getting close to admitting their feelings for each other, but there wasn't any time for that now. They both had things they needed to settle before they could ever consider being together. Jack wasn't sure if Jamie even thought of him like that anymore.

"Are they doing the announcements in there?" Jack flicked another peel off the raw potato in his hands. He had galley duty more often than not for all the trouble he got himself into. He supposed Irra could've done him in much worse, so he couldn't complain. It was hot in the room. Sweat dripped from his brow and he wiped it off with the back of his hand. He used to complain for days about the heat. He was definitely a winter guy.

Jamie walked up behind him and peered over his shoulder at his work. "Looks like Spooler," he snorted, pointing to the mess of hair Jack had carved into the potato. "You're getting better at carving."

Jack barked a laugh. "Yeah, I gotta do something to entertain myself down here. Can't always eavesdrop on the cooks and they've tightened their security since I last messed with the food."

"You killed the star fish we were supposed to have for dinner."

Details went into the face, bags under the potato's makeshift eyes. Precious edible parts of the potato fell into the pile at Jack's feet, but he didn't really care. The cooks would complain, but they'd just give him more duties, make him clean this mess up. Extra duties were a pain, but they wore him out and it gave him something to busy himself so he wasn't sitting around in his cabin bored out of his mind with only his thoughts to keep him occupied. That never went well.

He rolled his eyes and chucked the potato in the bucket with the rest of the ones he'd finished. Wiping his hands on his pants, Jack rose to his feet and stretched out the knots in his back. "So, lunch? The General said they'd be announcing a new mission today, so that's what you're here for right?"

Jamie gave him a nod. "Yeah, so grab some food and join me at the table." He placed a hand lightly against the small of Jack's back to lead him along and Jack resisted the urge to lean into it, the small contact enough to send a shiver down his spine. He licked his lips nervously, flinching when Jamie gave him an odd look. For a tense moment, he wondered if the brunet had him figured out. "Are you eating enough?"

Jack just barely resisted letting out a sigh of relief, a smile playing over his lips. Of course Jamie wouldn't have anything figured out. The guy was oblivious. Jack could've kissed him every day of the year and he was sure Jamie would still think it was just an act of friendship. "You look awfully skinny," Jamie went on. "I know you've got all these extra duties, but if you don't keep up with your meals, you'll be in no shape to fight the shadows."

Jack gave out an easy laugh. That was Jamie for you--always the motherly hen. Even when they were kids, Jamie would play the doctor, and Jack his willing and eager patient. Nowadays, he'd like to play a whole different kind of doctor game. "I'm good, Jamie. Come on, I don't wanna miss this."

Dervish was the one giving the announcements. Jack wasn't surprised. Pitch rarely came out of his quarters to say anything to the rest of the crew unless it was extremely important. He probably told Dervish and the Commanders to choose the soldiers they thought would be best for the job instead of doing it himself, but Jack had no doubt that Pitch was the one who detailed the overall strategies for the groups to carry out on their mission.

Dervish's blazing red hair always stood out in a crowd, graying just a bit on the sides. He wasn't the tallest man, but more short and stout. Jack had seen the man in battle, though, and he knew the biggest mistake an enemy could make was thinking he was out of shape in any way. Dervish used his bulk to give him extra leverage against his opponents, throwing his weight into his strikes. He was a lot faster than one would expect, too. The Captain would only be a capable person, and Jack was sure Pitch knew what he was doing when he gave Dervish the job.

The Captain only needed to clear his throat once to get the attention of all the soldiers in the mess hall. There were two mess halls: one for the Privates and one for the Officers. The Officers sometimes discussed battle strategies and preferred their quiet and solitude to concentrate, while the Privates were allowed to talk and interact as they pleased as long as it wasn't reckless.

In the third month, Jack had started an impromptu food fight. Nobody was able to trace it back to him, so they all got extra duties. Irra had been practically frothing at the mouth when she saw the mess.

As Dervish stood at the front of the mess hall, Jack noticed a handful of Warrant Officers standing behind him. "We'll be enacting a reconaissance mission on a nearby planet where Fearlings have been spotted," Dervish began. He held what Jack assumed was a list of all the soldiers meant to go. "There will be five groups of six to investigate the assumed stomping grounds, each group lead by the Officers you see behind me. Once I call your name, line up behind your Officer."

After clearing his throat once more, Dervish went on to read the list of Privates, and the occasional Private First Class, that had been chosen to go on the mission down below. Jack waited eagerly for his name to come, but it never did. He stared up at the five groups of soldiers in disbelief.

Dervish folded the list up and put it away in his breast pocket, turning to address the soldiers in line. "You all, join me in the conference room when you finish eating and we'll discuss your mission."

There was a small chorus of "Yes, sir!" before they were dismissed to continue their meals. The usual noise and chatter of the mess hall fell back to its usual volume and Dervish left the room.

"Wait." Jack's voice was low, but it caught the attention of Jamie who sat at his side.

Jamie swallowed a bite of his flimsy burger and frowned. "What?"

Jack slammed his hands on the table, rising quickly from his seat. Alarmed, Jamie stood with him. "Jack, what?" He put his hand on Jack's shoulder, but it was shrugged off.

" _I'm_  supposed to go on that mission, too. I have to go."

Again, Jamie stammered out another "What?" before shouting that he hadn't even taken a bite of his food yet. Jack ignored him, passing through the people standing around and heading out to the corridor. He glanced around and just caught sight of the Captain heading towards the stairs.

"Captain Dervish!" Jack caught up to his side and Dervish turned towards him with a frown.

"Private Overland? Is there something you need? I left my lunch in my cabin and I'd very much like to get to it before the conference."

Jack straightened his back and narrowed his shoulders. "Captain, I want to go on that recon mission to the planet down below."

Dervish answered him with a chuckle, brushing a thumb over the graying hairs in his mustache. "That's very noble of you, Overland, but I'm afraid the decision's already been made. The soldiers are meant to set out first thing in the morning." He gave a wave when Jack dropped his shoulders, a look of disappointment written in his features. "It's just recon, my boy, don't look so down. If I were you, I would be glad to get out of recon duty. I always hated it. Boring as hell."

"But, sir, why wouldn't I-"

Dervish turned his back to him, already starting back up the stairs to his cabin. "The decision's been made, Overland. This isn't up for debate."

But Jack _had_  to go on that mission, even if it was just recon. He hadn't gotten close to the shadows for over a year. He needed to see what the Fearlings were up to with his own eyes, and more importantly, he needed to see them. He had to make sure-

"Sir, please." Jack looked up from his thoughts to find that Dervish was already well out of sight. He took the stairs two at a time to catch up with him, finding the Captain just outside the door of his cabin. When Dervish saw Jack still tailing him, he sighed loudly and dramatically, muttering something about lost dogs under his breath. He didn't look happy when Jack approached him for the second time, but he let Jack say his piece. "I-I have this idea, that maybe the reason the Fearlings are acting so much like real people is because, maybe, they _are_  real people and-"

"Real people?" Dervish raised both furry brows. "Now, where exactly did you hear something like that?" There was a low, knowing tone to his voice and Jack's breath caught in his throat. _Well, shit._  The Captain looked him in the eye and Jack glanced away, guilt written all over his face. "You wouldn't have happened to _overhear_  some important business matters, now, my boy?"

When Jack looked back, Dervish didn't look so much threatening as he did amused. That shocked him a little and he opened his mouth to try and explain himself, but he knew there was no point in it when he'd already been caught. Dervish laughed and clasped him on the shoulder. The force of it had Jack wincing, just barely catching himself from stumbling more than just a step. "Overland, I'm sure you've got your ideas, but there's a time and a place for speaking up. You aren't going on that recon mission. That's settled. Now, go back to the mess hall before the kitchen closes and finish your meal so I can finish mine."

Before Jack could say another word, Dervish slipped inside his cabin and the door slid firmly shut. He sighed and ran his hands through his mess of milky hair. He might never have another chance to get close enough to the Fearlings to study them. He just needed to see _if_...

"You gave it your best, Jack," he sighed to himself, stalking off to find out what kind of trouble he could get into to take his mind off it.

Jamie found him at the bottom of the stairs leading to the fourth floor, just outside the mess hall. "What was that all about?" He fell in step with him when he didn't get an immediate answer. Jack decided he didn't feel up to eating anymore.

"Nothing. Forget about it."

Jamie frowned. "Come on, Overland. You know you can talk to me."

Jack sent him a glare. "Then start by not calling me _Overland_. My name's Jack, Jamie. You know I hate that." He immediately felt bad when Jamie gave him a hurt look for lashing out, but he didn't take it back or try to apologize.

After a moment, Jamie sighed. "I know you thought this was your chance to get close to them, but there will be other chances, Jack. You just have to give it time. Besides, you don't even know for sure if she's-"

" _Stop_." Jack stopped in his tracks and whirled on the Corporal. "Do _not_  go there. You don't know if she _isn't_ , either, okay?" Jamie held his hands up in defense, apologies written on his face and sticking to his tongue. Jack wasn't in the mood to hear them, so he spun back around and continued stomping off towards the stairs that would lead him back down. "Besides," he muttered, "I'm _going_  on that mission." He wasn't one to give up so easily.

"Wait." Jamie shot Jack a wide-eyed look. "Did Captain..." One look at the stubborn look set in Jack's features told Jamie all he needed to know. He shook his head and tried to gather some authority to his tone. "Overland, you're not going on that mission. That would be going against a direct order. That's practically _treason_. Interfering with a mission could get you in serious trouble." When Jack started down the stairs, blatantly ignoring him, Jamie grabbed him by the arm and held him back. "I'm still your superior. I can't let you do this."

"Do what?" Jack asked innocently, meeting Jamie's gaze. "Right now, I'm just going down to the flight deck to knock that dent out of my sloop."

Jamie stood indignantly in front of him, blocking him off from leaving the staircase. Jack narrowed his eyes, ready to rise to the challenge. "Jamie, this is something I need to do."

"Overland, I can't let you interfere with the mission and put people in danger for your own personal misgivings."

Jack blew his bangs out of his face, rolling his eyes at the look he was given. "Oh yeah? And what exactly are _you_  gonna do abo- Hey!" A metal cuff clicked around his wrist. Jamie tugged Jack's arm behind him and clasped the other cuff around the other wrist, holding them together as he pulled Jack along. "Jamie, oh my god. I can _not_  believe you just cuffed me." Jamie gave no reply as he lead Jack down another set of stairs. "What are you gonna do? Toss me in the brig like a criminal?"

"No," Jamie replied, tone set. He stopped outside Jack's cabin. "I'm going to put you in your room because you're _grounded_."

Despite his rage, Jack couldn't help but let out an incredulous laugh. " _Grounded_? This is unbelievable." The door to his cabin slid open with a _shick!_  and Jamie shoved him inside. Jack stumbled a few feet and caught his footing before he could slam into the post of his bed. "You can't do this."

Jamie rolled his eyes and unlocked one of Jack's cuffs, looping it around the bar of the bed and clicking it back into place. "Well, it looks like I'm doing it anyway. I've seen you get yourself into trouble a lot of times, Overland, but leaving the ship to stow away on that mission is going too far. After the groups leave in the morning, I'll come back and get you. I'll bring your dinner later."

With that, Jamie turned to leave and Jack swallowed around the nervous knot in his throat. He wanted to burst in outrage, throw a tantrum and tear Jamie limb from limb, but whenever he pulled against the cuffs, they strained painfully against his wrists. "Oh come on, Jamie! If you're going to put me in cuffs, at least have the dignity to fuck me." He heard Jamie give a noise of disgust just before leaving the room and Jack was left alone, trapped in his own quarters. Like a dog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a little early, but I already had this written up and since it's my birthday today, I decided I wanted to go ahead and post this chapter anyway. I didn't mention before, but unless anything comes up or changes, chapters will be coming out on a weekly basis! Probably every Saturday or Sunday. So look forward to them!
> 
> I look forward to your kudos and comments!! I hope you're all enjoying this so far! It's slow going so far in the beginning, but I have plenty of things planned for the future of this fic, so stick along for the ride and you'll see what's up.


	3. Chapter 3

“You want to be beaten, pummeled and driven away, so you have a reason to shut everyone out, and say 'I told you so' when it all goes to shit. The thing is, we all fuck up. All of us. Regularly. And living is painful because of it. Because we all fuck up. What makes us stronger is getting back on our feet – irony intended – and doing it all over again until we get it right."

\-- _Dianna Hardy, Heart Of The Wolf_

\--

Jack and Jamie were not on speaking terms.

Just as Jamie claimed, he didn’t let Jack go until he was absolutely positive the teams were long gone on their mission, which wasn't until nearly lunch time the next day. One of the Privates on the team overslept and missed the debriefing, so the Captain had to go over things a second time before sending them on their way. When Jack heard about it, he was absolutely _livid_. He would’ve been much better suited to the job than some slack-off Private. It didn’t help when he heard from some other crewmates that most of the soldiers who went on the mission were chosen because they were newer or hadn’t seen a lot of action, so it was supposed to give them a little field training.

Jamie came in before lunch and undid the cuffs around Jack’s wrists—sleeping had been all but impossible in that position. He only managed to sit on the edge of his bed and rue the day he ever met a boy by the name of Jameson Bennett in the first place. There wasn’t a lot he could do to try and free himself, either, and he’d certainly tried everything he could. The furthest he could reach with one hand cuffed to the bed post was his nightstand by the bed. He jammed the only pen he could grab into the tiny slot to no avail. Jack had plenty of experience in picking locks, but he didn’t have anything on hand to work with.

When Jamie finally came in and released him, Jack had a knot in his back and bruises around his wrist where the metal struck harshly against the bone. All the furniture on board the airship was firmly planted into the ground in case they experienced turbulence or got into a rickety battle, so he didn’t have any hopes of pulling himself around anywhere. Jamie brought him dinner the night before and breakfast the morning of, both of which went stubbornly ignored. Whenever Jamie came around, Jack gave him a stern silent treatment, and as soon as the Corporal was gone, his name was cursed in every way imaginable.

Even during lunch, Jack wondered what his chances were of getting away with going out on his own anyway, but he gave that thought up from the start. He had no coordinates on where the planet even was and the General put the shields back up after the Fearlings broke into the ship, so it would be impossible to go anywhere without someone picking up on it. He couldn’t even take _Frost_  out to ride off his frustrations.

 _Dammit, Jamie._  He could’ve had a chance at seeing the Fearlings up close. There was no telling when the next time would come up that he’d get this chance again, but there was nothing he could do about it anymore.

In any case, Jack was feeling especially cantankerous. After finishing lunch, he went back to his post for another hour before being dismissed by his replacement. He wandered the long, outstretching corridors, just itching to find something to do or someone to take his frustrations out on. He hadn’t messed with anyone in a long time anyway, not since the star fish incident, so he was about due for some pranks.

“Jackson.” Jack spun towards the voice, finding one of the galley chefs marching down the hall to approach him. The woman’s name was Boa. She was six-foot-three and the weight and girth of at least three Jack’s put together. A series of religious tattoos wrapped around one arm, a lion with a mane made of fire being the only one on the other.

Jack smiled tightly at her, briefly wondering how she’d found him until he realized he’d wandered back up to the galley floor. She towered over him, sticky brown hair tied back in a tight bun. The cooks and most of the maintenance workers on board the airship were civilians who accepted the risk of their jobs for the sake of the pay and the chance to explore more than most other restaurant workers got to do, but Jack was positive Boa would be quite the challenge in a fight with any Dream Pirate or Fearling. She could probably choke one out with her fists alone.

Jack resisted the urge to step back when she leaned in a little too close, her breath surprisingly fresh, like a pack of cinnamon-flavored gum. “Hey charmer, what can I do you for on this fine, sunshiny day?”

Boa all but rolled her eyes. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Jackson. I need you to take care of the garbage piling up in the backrooms and prep rooms.”

He didn’t hesitate to voice his displeasure with a loud, drawn-out groan. “Come on, Boa, I’ve got things to do. Why can’t you get Private Medley to do it? He always eats way more than the rest of us, anyway. He should be the one who cleans up that mess.”

“I can’t find him,” Boa replied with a shrug. She didn’t care _who_  did the job as long as it got done. “I have to return to the kitchen to get dinner ready, but nobody put the garbage out last night, so now I need you to take care of it before it all piles over.” When Jack opened his mouth, she put one massive hand up to silence him. “I know your shift's ended. If it’s not taken care of, I’ll be serving the garbage for lunch tomorrow.” Jack didn’t doubt that she would, either.

With a sigh, he bowed his head in defeat and waved her off. “Yeah, okay, alright, I’ll do it.”

Satisfied, Boa gave him a nod and went off to start fixing the food for dinner. From the smell wafting down the hall, it was probably beans and rice. He watched her disappear into the mess hall before sighing and following after, more spiteful than he started out. If he’d gone on that mission, he wouldn’t have to dump garbage. If he’d gone on that mission, he would probably be on a brand new, unexplored planet, just yards away from Fearless. Not for the first time, and probably not for the last, Jack found himself cursing Jamie’s name.

The main assembly line where soldiers picked out their food during meals was separated between the officer's side and the side for the lower-ranking soldiers, but the kitchen itself was connected by the backroom area, where the chefs made the food. More often than not, a handful of Privates were chosen for galley duty. As a Private First Class, Jack was supposed to be beyond those duties, but he got strung into them more often than not with all the trouble he got himself into. Sometimes, he had to wash dishes all day long, and other times he was put in one of the few prep rooms to peel potatoes or slice fruits. They didn't leave him in charge of live food anymore after the time he released the crater crabs on the unknowing victims of the cafeteria. Some people were still finding them in unfortunate places weeks after the event.

With a sigh, Jack rounded up the cans of trash in one room and went to look for the cart they used to transport them to the incinerator. Instead of shooting the trash into space like irresponsible heathens, they dropped it off in a pit of fire that melted it all up and disposed of it properly. Besides, tossing trash out into space was dangerous for the star fish that choked on it or tried to eat it

Jack found the cart left out in the cafeteria and started pushing it back towards the backroom when an idea struck him. A positively malicious one, at that. His _favorite_  kind.

With a growing Cheshire grin, Jack tilted his head back to study the low-hanging ceiling. There were vents all throughout the mess halls and the kitchen, in the backrooms and even in the prep rooms. The ceilings were kept lower on this level of the ship because the vents usually needed cleaning more often than the others, so it was easier for maintenance to reach it with just a ladder. At first, he considered the obvious: sticking some foul-smelling garbage in the vents for the eaters to suffer through, but he quickly cast that consideration away when it was obvious that the food would probably mask the smell anyway.

Jack pulled the cart with him to the backroom and searched around. Off-handedly, he asked the workers if he'd missed any trash so he could have the excuse to look around a little, but he knew he hadn't. He found what he was searching for under one of the dishwashing sinks and grinned, pulling the bucket out and replacing it with a few paper towels. "This looks like it has more than water in it, so I'll just empty it too." The workers didn't bother glancing in his direction when they agreed, and so he was waved off.

After he left, Jack dumped the bucket of water in one of the latrine sinks and went about filling it up with garbage instead. The smell was enough to gag him, so he made sure to hold it far from his nose as he went off to find a ladder from the maintenance closet.

The cafeteria workers were all in the backroom preparing for dinner and they didn't like to be interrupted, so people rarely came into the mess halls in between the scheduled eating times. If anyone wanted a snack, they were supposed to grab protein bars or fruit from the cafeteria before leaving. Jack thought the protein bars tasted like wood and the fruit always started out nice at the beginning of the week, but by the end of the week, it was always over-ripe or rotten.

Jack dragged the ladder to the middle of the mess hall used by the lower ranks, just under one of the vents. Making sure it was sturdy enough without someone holding it, he scaled it and pushed the vent open.

"Are these things ever cleaned?" There was at least three inches of dust down each side of the ventilation shafts. Some even fell into his hair when he pushed the vent cover aside. He gripped the top of the ladder and sneezed before sniffing and lifting the bucket up and into the vent, right next to the opening. Crouching carefully, he pulled out the lace of his boot and tied one end to the bucket's handle and let the rest of it drop. It was just long enough for someone to reach if they were standing on the ground. He debated on whether or not he should put the vent back into place and ended up sliding it back two thirds of the way, leaving enough room for the bucket to fall, but not enough for anyone to see the bucket at any angle.

Satisfied, Jack climbed back down and replaced the ladder. Shortly after, he disposed of the garbage and went down to his cabin floor for a shower before dinner. Things were about to start looking up.

\--

Since there were less Privates in the mess hall, some of the Officers joined their lower-ranking friends for dinner. As Jack expected, there was no briefing or explanation on why the entire airship shook the day before, or anyone saying how it was connected to the recon mission, and as far as he could tell, everyone seemed just fine with that. _That_  was the problem with soldiers. They were just mindless followers who did what they were told and never asked questions. They were _trained_  to trust their superiors no matter what. Jack always found that way of thinking ridiculous. How was he supposed to blindly trust people he barely knew? Just because his superior officers were good in combat situations didn't mean they weren't capable of treason or making the wrong move. As far as the soldiers who were called on for the recon mission knew, they were being sent into a trap. While Jack knew firsthand that that obviously wasn't true, the point was that _they_  didn't know it wasn't.

Jack found Jamie standing outside the mess hall waiting for him and nearly turned around if it wasn't for the urge he had to see his plan unfold. There was no fun in a prank if he didn't get to see it in action.

Before Jamie could spot him, Jack slipped off through the doors leading to the backroom. Some of the cooks sent him glares warning him that he better not mess up any of their hard work, but he passed easily through them and slid into an opening in the assembly line. The woman he cut in line was so involved in conversation that she didn't even take notice. Grabbing a tray, Jack got the food he wanted and found a table near-full of familiar faces just a few feet down from the vent.

The guys greeted him when he arrived and he quickly shushed them. They recognized that look on his face shared worried glances before leaning in to hear what he had to say. "See that string?" The men followed his finger to the shoestring resting by the table three tables down from where they sat. "Someone's bound to notice it soon and wonder what it's doing there. And when they do?" A grin full of pearly teeth as lovely as freshly fallen snow nearly split his face in half. He spread his fingers out. "A bucket falls down from that vent up there and drops its load on the unsuspecting victim."

One of the soldiers, Private Grant, was already laughing, but the other two seemed hesitant. "Are you sure about this, Overland? Last time you tried something like this, Lieutenant Kalu nearly had you shot into space."

Jack grimaced. "He had me two floors from the emergency escape hatch before Lieutenant Varo stepped in and saved me."

"Well, she knows we can't toss trash out into space," Grant added, smiling widely and earning a glare from his snowy-haired crew mate. He got just as bored as Jack did with all his free time, but he never had the guts to pull any of the pranks Jack went through with. Sometimes he helped if it was necessary, but whenever it came time to start placing blame, he always backed out. Jack found it annoying, but never cared enough to call him out on it. Besides, not a lot of others were willing to help him out with some of his more elaborate ordeals.

Jack rolled his eyes and motioned for them to keep their voices down before anyone got suspicious. A few people passed the shoe string and followed it up towards the vent, but didn't bother to stop and test it out. After the third time, Grant let out the breath he'd been holding and looked over at Jack. "So, what is it? Water? Because, I gotta admit, Overland, I figured you'd be a little better than that."

Jack snorted. "Water, yeah right."

One of the men frowned, eyes glancing nervously back over at the string that had yet to get pulled. "If it's not water, what is it?"

"Not anymore of those crater crabs, right?" Grant pulled a face of distaste, wrinkled his nose. "That was a year ago and I still found one in the cargo bay. Dead, though. Smelled like shit. Boa went and rounded up all the ones she could find, but there's still some out there, I'm sure."

"Nah, not water." Jack leaned back in his seat, rocking it back on two legs and studying his nails with a grin carved into his face. He rubbed his nails on his shirt, well aware of the impatient looks being sent his way. After he decided his dramatic pause had gone on long enough, he dropped his chair back on four legs and looked them each in the eye, nearly giddy with glee. " _Garbage_."

All three of them gasped. Jack felt satisfied by their responses, even as two of them looked at each other with more concern than before. "Are you sure-"

Jack quickly shushed them, focused on the shoestring. Two men stood under it, a woman standing a few feet back with her hands crossed over her chest. Grant's eyes widened when he saw who it was reaching for the string and for the first time, looked unsure about it. "Overland, isn't that..."

"Cas?" Jack answered for him. His grin turned dangerous. "Yeah, it is." His eyes locked on target. He wished he had something to record this moment, but all he had was his memory. His sweet, sweet memory that would play this moment over and over again for the next decade. This was going to be a sweet, sweet victory indeed.

One of the others nudged his shoulder nervously, eyes wide as they watched Cas's hand wrap around the shoe string. "But Cas _hates_  you. He'll tear you apart!"

Jack shushed him and swatted his arm away, dangerous gleam in his gaze. Cas gazed up the length of the shoe string with curiosity, hand to his chin. He squinted at the vent and then turned to say something to the blond guy by his side. The woman rolled her eyes, but the blond shrugged and didn't reply. Jack recognized them- The blond was Chief Petty Officer D'gell. Dark skinned, bright eyed, and had a nasty sense of humor. Jack spoke to him a few times, but he wasn't a guy he liked to spend time with. Nobody did, really, except for Cas and the woman, Senior Chief Petty Officer Millie, dark hair pulled back in a tight pony tail that swayed whenever she shook her head at whatever the guys were discussing. The three were a treacherous crew. Jack knew he was carved into Cas's bad book ever since the training room situation in his sixth month. That meant he was automatically in D'gell's and Millie's, too.

The three were older. They'd been in the Golden Army years before Jack ever joined, but they did things at their own pace. Cas was known for his nasty attitude that got him in trouble with his superior officers, but whenever he got himself in too deep, Millie always seemed to bail him out. D'gell didn't seem to stir up too much trouble, but he had a mad look in his eyes that drew people away from him.

Jack didn't have a lot of experience with any of them besides Cas, though. The two of them generally stayed out of each others' paths, but whever he and Cas passed each other in the corridor, he got a nasty look sent his way, or a cheap attempt at tripping him. As far as Jack was concerned, Cas wasn't so much a threat as he was a classroom bully. He was just a bad-tempered pansy who needed his crew to clean up his messes for him.

D'gell shrugged again and Jack watched with bated breath as Cas gave the string a tug. It must've been too light because nothing happened. He frowned and tugged again, harder this time, and all in one beautiful moment that Jack would never want to forget in a million years, the bucket full of garbage spilled over the crack in the vent and all over Chief Petty Officer Cas.

A veil of silence came over the mess hall. A few stray gasps spilled out as Cas took the time to shake off the shock and let the reality of the situation settle in. Jack had made extra sure to fill the bucket with as much wet garbage as he could, anything that would stick to the victim. Cas's shirt clung to him, completely soaked through to the skin in whatever foul mixture of liquids had been in the bucket. His dark hair, frosted white at the tips, stuck fast to his forehead. An old, rotted star fish clung to his hair, stuck by the glue of trash, an empty apple core draped over his once shiny boots. There was a steady dripping sound echoing in the silence from where he stood. All eyes were trained on him.

A slow, muted murmuring passed through a few of the soldiers. Jack saw Millie cover her mouth to hide the smile threatening to spread over her lips. D'gell was gaping, stuck in a stunned silence.

Cas's shoulders shook with barely concealed rage. His voice was quiet at first. Jack had to strain to hear what he said. " _Who_  is responsible for this?" The murmuring got louder as people all looked at one another, trying to find the culprit of this mess. When he didn't get a response right away, Cas raised his head, eyes swimming with fury. Jack could smell him from three tables down and it gave him a warm, satisfied feeling. The Officer raised his voice. "Who is it?!"

All of a sudden, as if shaken from the rise in volume, the bucket tilted through the opening that opened up further when some of the garbage pushed against it. It landed perfectly upside-down on Cas's head, stopping at his shoulders. A solid _thunk_  echoed throughout the mess hall as thin metal hit an empty skull.

With a roar of rage, Cas grabbed the bucket and slammed it into the ground as hard as he could.

A laugh bubbled out of Millie and when Cas whirled on her, breathing heavily, she quickly re-covered her mouth with her hand to save her image. She didn't have to hold his attention for long, however. Millie's laugh broke the silence. The soldiers crowded in the mess hall all started laughing, quiet at first, and then loud and uproarious. Some bent over, holding their sides and smacking their knees, and Cas stood in the middle of it all, humiliation written in his features. His eyes were wild with outrage, his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. He looked all around him, from face to face, trying desperately to find the perpetrator. A heated blush filled his cheeks with color and he let out a growl of frustration. He stepped forward as if to leave, but he stomped down on an empty banana peel and slipped, swinging his arms out wide to catch himself and smacking D'gell in the face in the process.

It was such a perfect comedy cliche that Jack's sides started hurting from laughing too much. His eyes watered and he had to wipe a thumb over his cheek before his tears could streak down his face. Grant nudged him in the side as a silent congratulations and he took it in pride.

Jack looked up just in time to catch Cas staring straight at him, a wild look on his face as he glanced down at Jack's boots, one laced and one without a lace at all. Their eyes met and Jack's laugh lost its luster. He looked around him and confirmed that  _yes_ , Cas was looking right at _him_. He quickly realized Cas wasn't the only one. There were plenty of others pointing and murmuring to each other, sure that only Jack would be the one stupid enough to pull a trick like that.

Jack rose to his feet to flee, but hands grabbed his shoulders and held him in place. When did D'gell get behind him?

Cas stormed over to Jack and with no warning at all, punched him hard in the face. Jack reeled out of D'gell's grip. Stars blurred his vision and for a moment his mind wondered if he was back outside the ship. This moment of delusion broke quickly, but not quick enough for him to duck from Cas's next strike.

Jack spun from the force of the punch and hit the floor. He was surprised to taste blood and wiped his sleeve over his face, the tan material darkened with the blood gushing from his nose.

The other soldiers backed away to give them room. Fights weren't entirely uncommon, but they were frowned upon. Just as Jack started rising to his hands and knees, Cas let out a shout of rage and knocked the breath of Jack with a kick straight to his ribs. Nothing cracked, but he was winded.

Before he could properly catch his breath, someone was pulling at the collar of his shirt and pulling him up with ease. Jack was toned, but his frame was small, and in the face of soldiers who were older than him, he was easy bait. D'gell shoved him forward and straight towards Cas, who grabbed a fist full of his shirt and shoved a smelly finger in his face.

Jack dared to glance over Cas's shoulder to see Grant hovering at the edge of the crowd. He mentally scoffed. Why did he expect anyone to back him up?

"Overland, you crossed me for the last time." Up this close, Jack could smell the true reek of the garbage. It was so strong it was dizzying, and a small, proud part of him laughed at the thought of how long it was going to take for Cas to wash that smell off himself.

Cas shook him violently and Jack realized he'd laughed out loud without meaning to. "What's so funny, Overland?" Cas's voice rose high, his cheeks still burning from the humiliation of having garbage dumped on him in front of everyone. "You like garbage, Private? Because I'm going to send you to the incinerator."

"It's where he belongs," D'gell chimed in, his voice reminding Jack he was right behind him, a brick wall standing in his way in case he tried to escape.

A cold grin twisted on Cas's lips and Jack wrinkled his nose at the offensive stench. "That's right. You're _garbage_ , Overland. You made a mess here just like you make a mess out of everything else."

A bitter feeling coiled in the pit of Jack's stomach and he scowled for just a moment before replacing it with a sardonic grin. "Hey, I'm not the one with starfood in his hair."

Cas's face twisted for just a moment before he lifted a hand to his hair. An immediate look of disgust overcame his expression as he curled his hand around the rotten sea star resting in his hair and slammed it on the ground. His hand tightened around Jack's shirt with a renewed anger and Jack braced himself as a fist rose to his face. "I'm gonna make you regret this, Overland." There was a promise in his gaze that made Jack believe he would. Cas reeled his fist back to take a swing and Jack just barely resisted flinching as it flew towards his face.

" _Stop_!"

The voice that broke through the chatter of the mess hall was so full of command that Cas just barely managed to stop himself, his fist stopping an inch from Jack's bruised cheek.

General Pitchiner, expression twisted in carefully concealed outrage, stood tall among the ranks, arms crossed over his chest. His posture was straight and stoic, his presence demanded attention. Jack lifted his chin to see him better and nearly shuddered at the strong atmosphere that surrounded the man. The General's face, handsome though it may have been, was all angles, sharp like edges on a knife, his eyes a shimmering silver, and his hair, cut short and smoothed back, matched the shadows themselves.

The crowd of soldiers spread back even more, falling silent in his presence. Cas, however, was not deterred, and jabbed another offending finger in Jack's face. "General! Can you not see the state I'm in? I'm covered in _garbage_  and it's all because of this _ingrate_!"

"Ingrate?" Jack echoed, hands flying up in his defense. "I think a prank like this is a _little_  better than just an 'ingrate.'"

Cas turned his attention back to him, eyes boring holes into his skull. Jack was sure if he could, he would tear Jack apart molecule-by-molecule, and then put him back together again in the shape of a lap dog to do his bidding for the rest of his days. "You little fucking _wretch_ , I'll-"

"Oh come on." Jack metaphorically reached into his back pocket and pulled out a smile he didn't feel. It made his face hurt even more. "It was all in good fun. What's a harmless prank?"

" _Harmless_?!" Cas turned back towards the General who seemed to be halfheartedly listening to D'gell heatedly explain the situation. "General, this Private needs to-"

" _Enough_." Pitch frowned deeply. Jack had no idea why he'd come down to the mess hall when he rarely ever ate with his troops, but the man didn't look happy to stumble upon the scene. "I've heard enough." He cast his gaze on Cas. "Let him go. Chief Petty Officer Cas, isn't it?"

"Y-yes, sir." Cas did as he was told, dropping Jack like a heated flame. Jack rocked to find his footing as D'gell stepped away from him, but he managed to gather his senses. A migraine pulsed against the walls of his skull and standing straight hurt his ribs. He was sure if he shifted wrong, he would puke. That was the last thing he wanted to do in front of a crowd.

"You seem to have a track record for losing your temper. Attacking a defenseless soldier in your rage is hardly responsible." Pitch looked less than impressed with the sight before him. "You are an older crew member, not to mention an Officer. I should expect more from you than this. I haven't heard the best things about you from your superior officers." Pitch paused to consider for a moment. "Speak to Captain Dervish first thing tomorrow about your rank. I believe Petty Officer will suit you best until you learn to control your temper."

Cas's face all but fell. "Petty- General! This isn't my fault! It was all on _him_." He gestured frantically at Jack. "If anyone should be dropped a rank, it should be him! I'm not to blame here!"

Pitch narrowed his gaze dangerously and Cas faltered a moment, glancing away like a child being punished by their father. "As far as I'm concerned, you are _both_  to blame." Cas opened his mouth to retort and Pitch cut him off with a cool glare. "This isn't up for debate."

When Cas's shoulders fell, defeated, Pitch turned his gaze on Jack, who was holding back the slightest of smiles at seeing Cas getting reprimanded. "State your name and rank."

Jack straightened the best he could with his body wanting to scream at him for moving at all. "Private First Class Jackson Overland reports as ordered, sir."

Pitch raised a fine eyebrow. "Overland?" He seemed to test the taste of the name on his tongue, as if it sounded familiar to him but he wasn't sure how. "Clean this mess up, and yourself, and see me in my office on the quarter deck immediately after."

Surprised, Jack nodded. "Yes, sir."

Pitch looked as if he wanted to roll his eyes, like he'd just wandered into a bunch of toddlers battling it out with their rattlers at the ready. Instead, he blew out an almost amused breath and turned away from the scene. "Everybody return to their meals. I do not want this matter getting any more attention than it already has."

Heeding his words, the crew all started going back to their tables to finish their meals. Some complained about the smell of garbage and just up and left. Jack watched Pitch walk out of the mess hall and, he assumed, up to his quarters on the uppermost level. The only ones he'd heard of being allowed up there were the Warrant Officers using the conning tower and, on occasion, the Captain or Commander Irra.

Cas let out a growl to grab his attention and Jack worried for a moment that he was going to ignore the General's commands, but instead Cas just sent him a dangerous look. "This isn't over, Overland. This is the _second_  time you've screwed me of my rank and I'll make sure it's the _last_."

With those as his parting words, Cas turned away from him and stalked out of the mess hall, probably to clean himself up. D'gell followed immediately after him, but Millie stopped to give Jack a smile. Jack wasn't sure what it was for, but he smiled back, and she gave him a small wave before catching up with her little crew.

Grant and the other two didn't make an appearance after that and Jack just rolled his eyes. He hadn't expected much from them, anyway. Grant liked to talk a big game, but he was all bark and no bite.

Jack wiped his nose on his sleeve and cringed at the streak of blood left behind. With a sigh, he walked off from the mess and only made it as far as the backroom before Boa was shoving a mop and bucket of water in his hands. She gave him a silent look of disapproval before snorting and storming off. He just rolled his eyes a second time and returned to the mess hall. There were less people in there by the time he got back, and he was grateful to have less eyes on him as he cleaned up the mess he'd made.

Somewhere along the line, he started to wonder if it'd been worth it. One thought back to Cas's wide eyes and red cheeks was enough to assure him it had _definitely_  been worth it.

Before the mop could even hit the ground, a hand was tugging sharply at the collar of his shirt and Jack started a bit, thinking briefly that it was Cas returning to get another hit in, but when he turned to see the perpetrator, his gaze was met with the narrowed disapproval of familiar browns, light in the middle and dark around the edge. "Oh, Jamie, I thought it was about time for you to show up." He resisted the urge to roll his eyes a third time and turned away from Jamie's fluttery gaze. Jamie had a tendency to remind him too much of his mother and it made his stomach knot painfully.

"I, I don't even know where to _start_ ," Jamie babbled, hands falling in front of him to express the futility of words. "You really tried to pull something like that while the General was on patrol? And not just to anyone, but an _Officer_ , of all people. You _know_  Cas has a temper and he's not going to let this go lightly. I can't _believe_  this." He pulled at his usually tame copper-colored hair as if this situation effected him twice as much as it effected Jack.

"Oh yeah? I didn't see you running to my rescue when Cas and his lackey got the drop on me. It was two against one and now a bruised rib and busted nose later, I've got you to deal with. You're a real hero, Jamie." Jack scoffed, rubbing absently at his cheek. He could already feel the swelling.

Jamie reached a tentative hand towards him, his expression softening as if just taking in the full extent of Jack's injuries. "I didn't see you come through here, so I went down to your cabin to make sure you ate," he said softly. "We should really get some ice on that. You've got blood all over you." He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and started patting at Jack's nose and Jack snorted and stepped away from him, swatting at Jamie's hands to keep him away.

He took a quick glance around at the few people snickering at them from their tables and a pout fell firmly into his features. "Would you stop? I don't need your mother hen routine right now. I'm still pissed at you. If you never got in my way in the first place, I would be knee-deep in Fearling info by now."

Jamie's face screwed up in annoyance and disbelief. "You're blaming me for all of this?" Jack just turned away and started mopping up the worst of the garbage. "I can't believe you. Who knows what the General's going to do." When Jack continued to pointedly ignore him, Jamie buzzed around to face him. Again, Jack turned away. "Overland, don't you understand the situation? The General..." He chewed his lip worriedly before going on. "He might discharge you."

Jack sighed loudly and finally gave Jamie his attention. "Don't you think I know that already, _Bennett_?" He was already anxious about the meeting with the General. He didn't need Jamie making him feel worse about it than he already did. It was Jamie's fault he was pissed off in the first place, and now all of this was going on. His stomach hurt and his face ached and he just wanted to take a shower and lie down for the rest of the day, but he couldn't even do that. "Just leave me alone, Jamie. I've gotta clean this up and change my clothes before I see the General and you're taking up my time."

Jamie looked like he had more to say, but in the end he just sighed and nodded his head, leaving Jack to clean up the mess he'd made on his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here's the next chapter! I know things have felt a little slow rolling, but we're still in the early chapters and things take time to go off. In any case, I think you guys will enjoy how the next chapter goes. I won't spoil anything, but let's just say I've come to a decision on whether or not to add something in~


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! I'm not going to spoil anything, but I do want to inform my readers that there will be smut in this chapter. Since I've previously had this fic marked as mature and only threw in the tag "possible future smut," there wasn't any real warning to it, so here it is, your warning. Bombs away!

“We never know what is going to happen, do we? Life is always throwing us this way and that. That’s where the adventure is. Not knowing where you’ll end up or how you’ll fare. It’s all a mystery, and when we say any different, we’re just lying to ourselves. Tell me, when have you felt most alive?”

\-- _Eowyn Ivey, The Snow Child_

\--

Jack stood outside the General’s office door for well over ten minutes, hands wrung together with worry. He cleaned up the garbage in the mess hall in a timely manner and ran down to his quarters to clean himself up and change his clothes. The bleeding had taken longer to stop than he thought it would, but it wasn’t the first bloody nose he’d ever had in his life and he was a big boy who could take the pain throbbing in his face and through his ribs. The aching dulled down for the time being, but he knew it was going to be hell getting out of bed in the morning. He had worse things to think about now.

He stared at the office doors trying frantically to think of anything he could to excuse him of his reckless actions. In all his trouble making days, he’d never once had to see to the General for punishment. He couldn’t recall any stories of anyone else ever having to, either. The General was a reserved man. He came out to patrol the ranks every so often just to make sure his crew was still in top shape for battle, and sometimes he was known to watch over the training arena, but he rarely spoke to any of the lower ranking officers and nobody ever had the guts or desire to approach him. His temper was well enough known that nobody wished to cross him, and now Jack obviously had.

He raised his hand to knock, froze, and dropped it for the fourth time in just under fifteen minutes. He worried the cut on his lip, tasting blood and feeling too anxious to care. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal. He’d been in trouble plenty of times and managed to weasel his way out of it. Really, it wasn’t like Pitch was going to send him out to orbit or toss him into the closest Sun. The worst that could happen was Pitch signing his resignation and dropping him off on the first inhabited planet to live out the rest of his days. But Jack couldn’t let that happen. He hadn’t been a soldier for two years to get kicked out over a stupid end to a stupid prank.

Just when he was about to try knocking again, the doors opened, making him jump as high as his heart did when it leapt into his throat. The tall, looming figure of Pitch stood in the doorway, head tilted down with one eyebrow raised. “You’ve been standing out here for twenty minutes and I’ve grown tired of waiting.”

Jack blinked wide, owlish eyes. “Wh- I-”

He took a moment to compose himself, straightening his posture and clearing his throat. He had to look up to meet Pitch’s eyes, the other man towering over him. Many of the crew members always talked about how intimidating the General was, how scary he looked with his hardened expression and tall stature, but Jack couldn’t find it in himself to agree. When he looked at Pitch, he just saw a man—just another soldier fighting the same war they all were. “How did you know…?”

Pitch looked almost amused, but it was hard to distinguish real emotions past that mask of passiveness he seemed to wear all the time. Not looking away, he pointed one slender finger towards the ceiling. Jack followed the direction and squinted. He thought he could barely make out a crack in the metal between the wall and the ceiling, but it was hard to tell from so far away. “Cameras?” he guessed, returning his gaze to find Pitch turning away.

He saw the General nod as he returned to his office, taking a seat on a very plain looking couch that Jack was surprised to see. Stepping tentatively into the room, he took the time to take it all in. Two years on the same ship and this was one of the few rooms he hadn’t been allowed access to. It looked the same as many of the other rooms. The walls were metal and lacked any windows, but there were various monitors showing off various parts of the ship’s interior on the wall to his right. He was relieved to find that there were none in the latrines or in anyone’s cabin, but there were plenty along the corridors, on each level of the ship, and in various other rooms.

The office itself wasn’t that large, about a size and a half larger than Jack’s own cabin, but it wasn’t at all how he thought it would look. Being an office, he expected a large desk that Pitch would sit behind and do his paperwork, but instead there wasn’t very much in the room at all besides the monitors, which took up the majority of the wall across from the couch. As far as furniture went, there was the couch that looked like it’d seen better days facing the monitors, a long metal table with a plethora of things strewn about it, from papers that Jack couldn’t make out the purpose of, to maps that he couldn’t quite figure out, and even a mug of something at the far end with the words _“General Daddy”_ messily scrawled across it. Jack snorted when he saw it, biting his lip to hold back a laugh. Pitch simply raised an eyebrow and ignored the look on the Private’s face, obviously caring less what he thought of it.

At the short end of the table stood a cushioned chair, which Jack chose to sit in, feeling awkward. He sank down at least an inch into the cushions and tried to look like he hadn’t noticed.

When Pitch was sure he finally had Jack’s undivided attention, he spoke. “Jackson Overland, Private First Class. Today was not the first time I’ve heard your name.” Jack swallowed, darted his eyes to a camera where two soldiers stood and talked to each other in the corridor. “You’ve got quite the reputation on this ship, Overland. Your past upsets have not gone unheeded. These matters are presented to me and I find it troublesome to deal with quarrels within the ranks when I have more important things to tend to.” Although he was obviously chastising Jack, he looked less angry and more like a teacher talking with a problem child.

In a brief moment of weakness, Jack imagined what this would be like in a classroom setting, with Professor Pitch behind the desk, a failing essay in his hand and Jack, the barely legal delinquent desperate to pass. He licked his lips slowly at the thought of crawling under that desk during study hall and trading his essay for an oral report.

“What are you willing to do?”

Jack blinked back to reality, startled when he saw narrowed ashen eyes staring at him so intently. “Do?” His voice came out higher than he’d intended and he cleared his throat, tried again. “Do for what?”

Pitch stared at him for another moment and Jack squirmed under the heavy gaze, feeling the urge to cross his legs and look away. It felt like Pitch was searching his brain, trying to figure him out, and Jack didn’t exactly want him to see what he was thinking. After what felt like an eternity to Jack, Pitch sighed and closed his eyes, slouching against the back of the couch in a very un-General manner. He squeezed the bridge of his nose in much the same way Jack had seen Jamie do tons of times before and wondered if that was just a side effect of dealing with him. Pitch looked tired and Jack felt guilty for taking up his time with his trouble. If Cas hadn't made such a big deal out of it, he probably wouldn't even be there.

He fished his thoughts for something to say to fill the unsettling silence and couldn’t find anything. While Pitch gathered himself, Jack mentally strangled himself for letting his thoughts go so astray in the presence of the General. He tried telling himself he was just tired from the long day, but he knew it was more than that.

Sliding his gaze back to the General, Jack took him in. He’d only seen the man from a distance and never had any direct conversation with him before that day. His face, angular and pale from many months spent in space at a time, wasn’t so hardened as it looked when he went around the airship on patrol, or whenever he stood in front of his army to give a speech. In his office, shut away from everyone else, his face relaxed. He looked younger than ever, not a wrinkle despite how often he frowned. His eyes were not deeply set, but dark, and his arms, crossed over each other more often than not, including now, showed their muscle even through the thin material of his collared shirt. The first button was undone and Jack could just imagine the toned chest lying underneath the rest.

Pitch finally opened his eyes and slowly settled his gaze on the monitors where, Jack noticed, the two in the corridor had gone down to the cabins. One whispered in the ear of the other and they laughed before dragging each other by their arms into a cabin, where they disappeared off camera. Jack blushed when he realized what they were probably doing and turned away. When he looked again, Pitch was watching him and he shifted uncomfortably under the cool gaze.

“If you are willing to listen this time around, I’ll repeat myself,” Pitch started. Jack nodded and leaned forward attentively. He thought that, while he couldn’t blame his thoughts on the day he’d had, he just might be able to pass it off to the General’s soothing accent. It was light despite his deep voice and sent a shot of heat straight to Jack’s groin whenever it was directed at him.

There were only a few on board with the same accent. While Jack was born and raised on the planet he so loved, Pitch came from his planet’s moon. Those on the moon developed a different accent than those on the planet. During the attack two years prior, the moon was the first hit with the shadows’ terror before they swarmed the planet below. Jack was sure Pitch suffered the same as those on his planet had.

“While I normally try to avoid dealing with issues within the ranks, it seems I’ll have to make an exception with your case,” Pitch continued. Jack frowned, thinking this was it. He was going to be discharged and kicked off the airship forevermore. “What are you willing to do to keep your rank?” Jack blinked, dumbfounded. “Seeing as how the only one lower than your current class is simply Private, it would probably suit you best, but I don’t like dropping ranks below Private First Class. However, I can’t simply let you go after the trouble you’ve caused today. Since I intervened, I have no choice but to act on your reckless behavior."

Jack’s expression twisted in confusion. “You’re not going to discharge me?” He blurted it without thinking and regretted his outburst immediately after.

The General looked almost surprised at first, but afterwards he simply looked amused. He let out a huff that wasn’t quite a laugh. “I hadn’t even considered it.”

“Really?” Jack wasn’t sure how to feel. He’d worked himself up over all of this, absolutely positive that the only outcome of meeting with the General was his permanent termination from the Golden Army, and he was obviously not the only one to think so. And yet, Pitch looked genuinely amused for him even bringing it up. He was obviously telling the truth. “So, if you’re not going to discharge me, why am I here? You almost never call anyone to your office besides the Captain or one of the older Officers.” He was beginning to wonder what sort of punishment Pitch had in mind, if not a discharge.

Pitch nodded thoughtfully. “While that’s normally true, this is obviously a special case. Wouldn’t you agree, Overland?”

Pitch sent him a look that Jack couldn’t quite read. It made his stomach twist in knots. “I’m not sure I understand.”

For a second, Pitch gave him a look of incredulity, as if he couldn’t believe he was talking to someone so positively oblivious. And then Jack swore he laughed. It was just a bark of noise, but it’d definitely happened, and while Jack didn’t see him smile a single time, Pitch sat back against the couch with a brighter expression. “You’re the biggest cause of chaos on the entire _Nova_ —I’m almost inclined to call you more trouble than the shadows—and you don’t understand why you’re here?” Jack’s shoulders sank. “Overland, you make a mess out of everything. It’s about time I do something about it.”

Jack felt put off by the comment, however true he knew it was. Coming from the General, it hurt a little more. “Didn’t you say you had better things to do?”

Pitch nodded. “I do, but I’ve been given countless reports of a certain soldier causing disarray among the ranks.” He motioned to the monitors. “I have eyes all over the ship, Overland. Don’t think for one moment I don’t see what you’ve been up to. I’ve been watching you, but there has never been a time that I even considered intervening in on one of your little… _schemes_. Today was just poor timing on both our parts.”

Jack huffed out an amused laugh, almost inclined to believe he was being set up. So the General, of all people, had watched him set up and act out all of his pranks over a two year time period and never once thought to act on it? A wry smile lifted Jack’s lips. He leaned forward, icy eyes sparkling. “General, do you _like_  seeing me mess with the crew?”

A smile ghosted over Pitch’s mouth for just a moment before disappearing again. Jack claimed it as a victory and cheered silently in his head. “Perhaps.” _So he's not denying it._  “It does tend to get boring up here in my quarters all day long. There’s not much else to look forward to.”

Jack almost couldn’t believe his ears. Pitch, _General_  Pitchiner, hardened leader of the entire Golden Army, destroyer of shadows of all kind, not only watched him, but even seemed to _enjoy_  his practical jokes played on the other members of their crew. Jack laughed, shaking his head and running his fingers through his messy locks of snowy white hair. “So what am I willing to do to keep my rank? That’s what I’m here for?”

Pitch nodded, watching him carefully, his expression contemplative. Jack took a moment to think, biting his lip and minding the cut. He avoided the immediate answer and tried to knock all the thoughts that came to mind out of his head, but every time he turned his gaze back to Pitch, they all came rushing back to the surface. Pitch never took his eyes off him, even as Jack went back to watching the monitors. His eyes landed on the corridor leading to the cabin door the two soldiers disappeared behind earlier and a blush threatened to color his cheeks red.

He turned back to find Pitch waiting patiently for an answer, his silvery eyes gleaming in the dim lighting of the office. Again, Jack licked his lips slowly, nervously, and this time he caught the way Pitch’s gaze flickered momentarily to watch him. That brightened his confidence and he let a smile lift his cheeks. “Honestly, General, I’m just about willing to do _anything_  to keep my rank.” He noted the way Pitch’s eyes narrowed almost dangerously and it sent a shiver through him. “I mean, it’d be embarrassing for me to go back to being a Private now after two years.”

“Perhaps we can come up with a solution that would suit both our needs,” Pitch suggested, hand swirling in the air. When Pitch stood, he was most often stoic, but Jack noticed, when he sat, he tended to accentuate himself with his hands. “I need you to be less of a nuisance to your superior Officers and you would like me to allow you to keep your rank.” He didn’t even pretend to take a moment to think as he moved on, hands folding over his knees as he leaned forward ever so slightly. “I suggest you find a way to exert your energy elsewhere.”

Jack raised his eyebrows at the suggestion, biting his bottom lip in expectancy. “And what, exactly, did you have in mind, General?”

Their eyes met and Jack was almost shocked at the heat behind the General’s gaze. Still, Pitch leaned away again, expression draining into one of almost disinterest. He focused back on the monitors. “ _You’re_  the one who needs to prove himself worthy of retaining his title, Overland. I’m afraid this is something you will need to come up with.” His tone flickered darkly as he added, “Impress me.”

Jack gawked at him momentarily before retaining his neutral expression. He narrowed his eyes at Pitch, who continued to passively watch the monitors, trying to figure out what he was thinking. Picking his mind proved impossible, however, and Jack tried to gather his nerves as his thoughts whirred into action. He was tired, and if he was judging the mood incorrectly, then he wouldn’t be able to fathom how horrible the outcome would be. Not to mention humiliating. He’d probably never live it down.

 _However_ , if he was judging it _correctly_ , then…

Well, then this could be a fun night.

Steeling his nerves and making his decision before Pitch really did lose interest in him, Jack rose to his feet and crossed the floor to the couch, stopping as he stood in front of the General. Pitch finally moved his gaze away from the monitors and settled it on Jack. Jack searched his expression before taking a deep breath and letting it out with a smile, settling himself on the General’s lap and cupping his face in his hands. Pitch’s hands landed on each of Jack’s thighs, unmoving, and Jack squirmed to get comfortable.

When he settled, Jack flashed Pitch a sultry grin, outlining his jaw to his neck. He could feel the heat between them already. “Impressed yet?”

Pitch raised a thin brow, expression clouded. “Hardly.”

Jack snorted and rolled his hips, biting down on his lip when Pitch’s hands squeezed against his thighs. They slid up slowly and rested on his ass to pull him closer when Jack rolled his hips a second time. Pitch hummed with the friction and leaned into the crook of Jack's neck, biting lightly at the pale skin. He tasted him, sucked the skin into his mouth, and Jack was sure it would leave a mark that he'd have a hard time explaining the next day.

He shivered in delight, making quick work of the buttons of Pitch's shirt. With it opened, his hands roamed the new access of skin, his fingers trailing lightly over the toned chest he knew would be there. A gasp escaped him when he felt teeth sink into his shoulder and he responded by shifting himself into an easier position, rocking his hips against Pitch in a way that had them both gasping in pleasure.

Jack moaned when he felt that Pitch was already hard against him and a smile crossed his lips when fingers reach under his shirt to trace the narrow expanse of his back. Pitch removed his other hand from around Jack's waist and teased the waistband of the front of his pants. Jack's breath caught and he leaned his hips forward, silently urging him to continue, but there was a pause. He frowned as Pitch pulled away from sucking on Jack's neck to look into his eyes. For a moment, Jack worried that he did something wrong, but the General's gaze was heavy. His eyes were searching and Jack felt nerves coil inside him.

"Pitch?" He breathed his name, a question. At first, Jack thought Pitch was searching for his permission, but as time went on, he felt as though there was something almost unsure about Pitch's own gaze.

When Pitch didn't reply, Jack hesitated and started drawing away, but the hand on his ass held him in place and pulled him forward once more. The clouds in Pitch's gaze cleared and Jack felt confused, but relieved that he was still wanted.

Whatever Pitch was looking for, he must've found, because he continued again, unbuttoning Jack's pants with ease and slipping his hand inside. Jack stuttered on a moan as Pitch's big, warm hand grasped him. He leaned his head forward and tried to push against his palm, but Pitch worked slowly, almost teasing as he pulled Jack out of his pants. The open air made Jack gasp and shiver, but Pitch's hand on his cock quickly warmed him back up again.

It felt good, it felt _so_  good, but it was so _slow_. Jack bit hard on his bottom lip and tried to encourage him to go faster. He was achingly, embarrassingly hard for hardly being touched at all, but he didn't have room to feel anything but frustration and sparks of pleasure every time Pitch brushed his thumb over the head of his dick. " _Please_ ," Jack begged, voice small and laced with need. He dragged his nails down the General's chest, pushing into his hand, calloused by years of handling a sword.

He felt Pitch's chest rumble with a silent laugh and the General continued his pace, drawing out every short gasp and needy moan he could from the milky haired soldier. The hand on his back moved to caress his chest and for the first time, Jack felt a twinge of embarrassment. His cheeks heated as Pitch explored his chest, much less toned than his own. Jack worked out as much as any soldier, but he had a naturally thin build, making him less impressive than those with wide shoulders and detailed muscles.

Despite Jack's worry, Pitch seemed to like what he found, pushing Jack's shirt up and off of him, dropping it to the side of the couch. Jack flushed more as Pitch openly stared, gaze hungry, but he didn't have a chance to stutter out his embarrassment when the hand on his member tightened almost painfully. He gasped around the pleasure building all the way up behind his eyes and leaned his head forward to rest against Pitch's forehead. Just as he made contact, he found himself pulled back by his hair, a tinge of pain mixing with the pleasure. Pitch resumed kissing his way down Jack's neck, over his shoulder, and biting softly at his exposed adam's apple.

Swallowing his embarrassment, Jack dropped his hands to the waist of Pitch's pants and made quick work out of them, slipping his hands inside and feeling a spark of satisfaction when Pitch gasped against his skin. Their bodies fell almost flush against each other. Heat clouded Jack's vision as the pleasure almost became too much when he grasped Pitch's hand and pushed their cocks together.

"Oh, _god_ , don't stop," Jack whined out, too far gone to be embarrassed now.

Pitch complied, his hand large enough to wrap around them both and Jack thrust into their palms. He arched when Pitch stroked faster, setting the pace and the pressure in varying degrees of ecstacy as Jack could only gasp and moan against him. He rocked his hips desperately, tears coming to his eyes as he could feel himself getting closer. Pitch scraped his nails down his back, kissed his chest, and Jack cried out, nearly sobbing. He pressed his face against Pitch's neck, mumbling nonsense from _"Oh, god"_  and  _"Don't stop, please, god, don't- I need-"_

He was vaguely aware of Pitch whispering encouragement in his ear, kissing the shell and biting the lobe. "So _good_ ," he'd murmur, his voice thick with lust. "Almost there, almost."

Jack blindly dug his nails into Pitch's chest; all he could focus on was the hands on his cock, the skin against skin, the intensity, how close he and Pitch really were.

He cried out a second time, pleasure backed up behind his eyes, as he came into his and Pitch's hands. He shuddered and whimpered at the rise and didn't have time to feel the fall as Pitch gasped against his skin and released just after.

Jack slumped against Pitch's body, enjoying the heat between them as he let himself enjoy the last bit of dream-like pleasure that still lingered. As his head began to clear, he focused on catching his breath and wiping his tears, dislodging his nails from the General's chest--the _General's_  chest--to brush them away. He felt Pitch's breath hot against his neck and shivered at the thought of what they'd just done.

Well, this was definitely not what he'd had planned for the night.

Jack chuckled nervously, wondering if he'd overstepped some sort of boundary for basically fucking with the General of all people. But Pitch had enjoyed it too, hadn't he? If Jack had read him wrong, Pitch definitely would've stopped him a long time ago, but he never so much as pushed Jack away, so Jack doubted he was in the wrong.

He tried to use that thought as a reassurance when he pulled away. Pitch looked at him with a sultry expression, eyes low and heavy as he reached up to brush the damp bangs from Jack's forehead. It was a kind, almost intimate gesture, and Jack was shocked. He wasn't sure what that was, or what any of that was supposed to mean, or if wasn't supposed to mean anything at all, but he smiled, and Pitch just nearly returned it.

"So," Jack drawled, feeling awkward now that it was over, "that happened."

Pitch rolled his eyes and looked like he was only barely suppressing the urge to push Jack off his lap. "So it did," he mused. "You're much more vocal than I imagined." His eyes narrowed coyly as Jack flushed. Almost as though he were afraid that Jack was going to run away, Pitch lightly grabbed his wrist to keep him there.

Jack blinked back at him in confusion, but said nothing about it. He wasn't sure he could stand, nonetheless get up to leave. Not to mention, he couldn't exactly leave the General's quarters with no shirt on.

For a few moments, they were silent, just taking the time to regain their composure. Jack realized, up this close, just how handsome the General truly was. He was much older than him, although Jack wasn't sure by how much. He never was very good at telling age from looks and Pitch looked much younger than he probably was. Jack reached up and traced a defined cheek bone and Pitch watched him somberly. When Jack met his eyes, the General seemed almost distanced, as if he was looking at someone else somewhere very far away. It made him feel uncomfortable, so he looked away and continued taking in Pitch's body while he had the chance.

He winced when he saw the red marks he'd left on Pitch's chest. Tiny beads of blood welled up and he frowned worriedly, wondering if Pitch would be mad. When he looked up again, Pitch seemed to have returned from wherever he'd gone and he looked down at the marks left behind. He touched them with an expression nearly resembling delight, and Jack felt relieved. "I'm sure your back doesn't look much better," Pitch admitted, reaching up to trace the marks he'd left behind. Jack shivered against the light touch, leaning into it and making Pitch tilt his head fondly.

It was strange to think about now that he could. Jack had never so much as spoken to the General before that day and now he was sitting in his lap after they'd jacked each other off. He began to wonder if Pitch did that sort of thing with anybody, but it didn't seem likely. Nobody ever spoke of it. There weren't any rumors going around of Pitch sleeping with anybody--besides, maybe, Irra. Actually, he always seemed completely closed off from the rest of his crew, uninterested in building any sort of relationship with anybody at all, nonetheless a sexual one. So where had that come from? It had to be boring sitting up in his office alone most of the time. Sometimes, Jack knew, Pitch's daughter would come aboard whenever they returned to the Orion Constellation, but sometimes they were away from that area for long periods of time and as far as Jack knew, there wasn't much else for Pitch to do besides stew in his boredom and go over battle strategies with the Captain.

Jack drew away when he felt like he could, carefully slipping from Pitch's lap to his feet. Pitch released his hold on his wrist and allowed him to do so. He tested his legs for a minute before buttoning his pants and picking his shirt off the floor. He pulled it over his head and went about trying to fix his hair back into place afterwards.

Pitch watched him as he tucked himself back into his pants and the silence between them suddenly felt awkward again. When Jack finished, he stood in front of the General, unsure of where to go from there. "I...," he trailed off, collected his thoughts, tried again. "So do I get to keep my rank?"

Again, Pitch huffed out just the slightest laugh. He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "Yes, Overland, you can keep your rank."

Jack beamed at him. "I think after that I deserve a promotion."

"Don't push your luck."

Jack laughed, deciding not to push the subject. He'd gone up to the office thinking he was getting discharged and ended up with this instead. He was hardly complaining.

His rolled his shoulders and sighed happily, feeling pleasantly tired and much better than he had in a long time. He hadn't done that sort of thing with anyone in too long. While he interacted with plenty of the other soldiers, he didn't exactly build a close relationship with any of them. Jack's mind was usually on other things. He was better at having a lot of acquaintances than a handful of close friends. Jamie was the closest and that was just because they'd grown up together.

"Thanks," he said after a moment, feeling ridiculous for saying it at all.

Pitch raised an eyebrow, confused. "For what?"

Jack gestured absently and added a shrug. "This, I guess. I haven't been my best lately. This really took my mind off things."

Pitch nodded, looking contemplative. "Well, if you ever feel the need to take your mind off things again, my office is always open."

Eyes wide, Jack gawked at him, almost not believing what he'd definitely heard. He assumed this had been a one time deal to save his head, but Pitch's gaze was clearly inviting and Jack wasn't one to turn an invitation like that down. "Maybe I'll come cure your boredom."

"You've certainly done well with that," Pitch replied honestly, a smile in his tone.

Jack laughed, feeling light on his feet despite his exhaustion. It was late and the day was catching up with him, especially after doing something like that. Before he could say anything more, Pitch waved him off. "Go, you look tired. It's nearly curfew, so return to your cabin and get some sleep."

A yawn escaped him as if to confirm his exhaustion. He nodded and turned away, deciding sleep sounded good. "Goodnight, General."

"Pitch."

Jack paused, smiled, turned back to catch the soft look on Pitch's face. "Jack, then."

Pitch nodded, expression lightening. "Goodnight, Jack."

And with that, Jack turned to leave with a smile on his face and a pleasant fluttering in the pit of his stomach. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll admit, I'm not the most confident in my smut writing abilities, which is why I originally wasn't sure if I was going to have it or not, but man those two totally took things into their own hands. I had zero intentions of writing it when I started this chapter and they were like yeah this is happening deal with it.
> 
> sO! I hope you enjoyed the treat!!
> 
> Also, as you may have noticed, this chapter's been updated before saturday. I'm changing my plans and from here on out, I'll be posting a new chapter every time I finish the next one (I like to stay two chapters ahead). I get too excited about posting to wait a full week every time, so this is good news!
> 
> One more thing. I know I haven't been replying to comments or anything much, but I really do read every single one I get and I love love love getting them. They all mean a lot to me, including kudos. I appreciate all my readers! As a side note, the thing between Jamie and Jack? In the movie, the kids guarded the Guardians, so I've always considered Jamie as sort of a Guardian to Jack, keeping his belief alive, despite just being a child. That's why I've interpreted those roles into this. //shrug


	5. Chapter 5

“It was a voice full of light and dark. Light not only as it glimmers, but also as it glares. Dark not only as it brings cold and fear, but also as it gives rest and shade.”

\-- _Geraldine Brooks, Year of Wonders_

\--

When Jack woke up the next morning, he thought of Pitch.

The pain of the previous day’s fight came rushing over him when he tried getting out of bed, but it soothed to a dull thrumming after his shower. As he checked his reflection in the mirror, he took a moment to admire the plethora of love marks. There was a particularly dark one painted on the crook of his neck and when he brushed his fingers over it, the memory of it lead to him taking care of himself. After coming down from the peak of pleasure, Jack dressed himself with a smile broadening his face.

He still wasn’t happy about being skipped over for the recon mission, but the stress of it was a bit more bearable. Over two years spent in the Golden Army and not a single day did Jack have anything to look forward to. Each day was spent virtually the same. He would shower, dress, eat his meals, talk with a few of the crew members, and maybe cause some mischief if he felt the urge. It was hell having to wander the same stuffy corridors day after day, do the same spotter shift during the same hours of every day. Even the faces started blending together after enough time of being in close quarters with them all.

After realizing just how many cameras were around the ship, Jack made a game of trying to spot where they were and making faces at them whenever he was sure he’d found one. A few times, when he was sure he was alone, he’d blow them kisses or fake a strip tease, first with lifting his shirt, and then dropping his pants just enough to show off the concaves of his hips. He had no idea if Pitch was watching—and god, he hoped nobody else was in his office while he was doing it—but it was fun enough to think about.

It was still hard to believe. At first, Jack thought people would notice, but the only one who’d said anything about the marks was Jamie, who clucked his tongue and asked him a hundred questions. If Jack wasn’t mistaken, he’d almost say the Corporal was jealous, but he told himself Jamie wasn’t even interested him in the first place, and even if he was, he wouldn’t be the jealous type. He always imagined Jamie as the pushover puppy type of person who’d just be happy that their crush was happy, even if it wasn’t with him. Jack tried not to think too much of it, though.

Jack got Jamie off his back by telling him he was just fooling around with one of the older Privates to relieve some stress. Jamie seemed to accept it, but Jack didn’t really care as long as it got the guy off his back. How would he explain that he’d actually gotten them from the General? _Oh yeah, Pitch and I have this fling going on. Oh, Pitch? You know, General Pitchiner? He lets me call him Pitch. That’s how cool we are now._

He wanted to go back again the first night after, but he resisted. While he didn’t doubt that Pitch’s invitation was entirely sincere, he didn’t want to overstay his welcome. Or look desperate. In truth, Jack hadn’t done anything with anyone since joining the Golden Army. Before the mess the shadows brought, he and Jamie would sometimes get each other off, but that was just hormonal teenage stuff. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything and he guessed, looking back, it never did. They never went further than using their hands, though. Jack wasn’t exactly saving himself for anyone special; just, nobody offered, and he didn’t have anyone he wanted to ask. When he joined the army, he and Jamie had to grow up fast. Doing that sort of thing bottomed Jack’s to-do list when he had more important things to think about. Now that it’d come up again, he was starting to realize just how badly he missed being touched by another person.

It was embarrassing whenever he thought about how inexperienced he was, though. Pitch wasn’t just older, but he’d also had a wife at some point. Nobody on the ship knew much about her, but Jack heard mentions of her every once in a while. Pitch had a _daughter_. If that wasn’t enough to convince Jack the General had practice, the night before was definitely enough to assure him that Pitch knew what he was doing with another person’s body.

Jack didn't see Pitch that night. He didn't go the next night, either, or the next couple of nights after that. Thinking about it, he wasn't actually sure when was an appropriate amount of time to wait before returning with a booty call. He still made a show in front of the cameras whenever he got the chance to, grinning up at every slight crack between the wall and the ceiling and teasing his shirt off his shoulders until he'd hear footsteps coming around the corner. He'd stick his tongue out playfully as a couple of soldiers would pass by and give him weird looks, but they hardly ever said anything. Jack was always kind of a weird guy.

It was nearly a week later when he decided he'd waited long enough. The excitement bubbled in the pit of his stomach as he headed to the General's office after dinner. He waited outside the door, peering up at the camera Pitch pointed out to him last time.

He stiffened when a Warrant Officer passed him by but the man barely paid him any mind as he went down the staircase. Jack looked off down the corridor where the Warrant Officer came from, back towards the camera, waited. When Pitch still hadn't let him in, he frowned and wondered if he was in his office at all. Leaning forward, Jack waved his arm in front of the door and hummed when it didn't open. Whenever the doors didn't open automatically, it meant they were locked from the inside. He leaned forward and tried to listen in, just barely catching voices on the other side. They were too far away for him to distinguish who they were.

Stepping away from the door, Jack frowned back up at the camera and wondered if he'd come at a bad time. He hoped whoever Pitch was with hadn't seen him making a tease of himself in front of the cameras, but he decided he didn't really care one way or another. He was sure the General didn't want people finding out that he was having relations with a lower-ranking officer, one years younger than him at that, but Jack didn't really mind either way. He just didn't want Pitch telling him that it was only a one time deal after saying Jack could come to him any time he pleased.

He gave the camera one last sidelong glance before shrugging and deciding to come back later, walking off down the corridor to explore the upper level floor. The quarter deck was off-limits to anyone who didn't have a reason to see the General unless they were the Captain or a Warrant Officer. The General's office was at the top of the stairs so nobody would have any reason to explore the rest of the floor if they were meant to see him. In the center of the corridor was a door that slid open when Jack approached it. The room inside was wide, but empty, and stretched around a large, rounded tube that lifted up through the _Nova's_  air-tight ceiling.

Jack wasn't sure what the tube was made out of, but it was vaguely translucent, opaque. The odd material made up the walls and floors of the room, making it stand out from any other room Jack had ever seen on the _Nova_. If he squinted, he thought he could see small pipes in the walls, but he didn't think much of it.

He slowly made his way into the room, keeping on his toes in case he needed to hide from an Officer. There was no way he could explain how he'd ended up in that room other than the pure truth that he was snooping around where he shouldn't be. One end of the tube was carved out, showing another steep staircase leading, Jack assumed, up to the conning tower. When the Warrant Officers sat up there, they had monitors that allowed them to see every outside angle of the airship's perimeters. They were the first to know if anything was approaching and if they considered it an emergency, they were just down the hall from the General's office to report it to him in person.

Standing at the bottom of the narrow staircase, Jack craned his head to see if he could get a look, but the staircase spiraled around the tube and the tower itself was stuck out on the top. Disappointed, but still impressed, Jack let out a low whistle as he took one step up inside the tube to get a better feel of the material it was made out of; nearly as thick as metal, but more like plastic.

He heard footsteps approaching from the outside and panicked, darting around the base of the tube and hiding on the opposite side of it. The doors hissed open and he heard someone step inside. Holding his breath, Jack pressed against the base of the tube and closed his eyes, silently pleading that whoever it was would leave without finding him out. There were much worse things than galley duty and he definitely didn't want to get stuck on trash patrol again.

A voice reached his ears so startling in the silence that Jack was embarrassed that he'd jolted. "So, I suppose I didn't see a certain Private First Class wander in a room he has no business being in, like a lost puppy."

 _Pitch_. A grin curled on Jack's lips and he stayed hidden behind the tube. He opened his mouth and barked like a dog, just barely suppressing a laugh at what expression Pitch must be making at his stupidity.

When he didn't hear anything in response, not even so much as a sardonic response to his impression of a dog, Jack frowned curiously and risked peeking around the the tube. It was only translucent enough to see through one layer of it, and even then it was fuzzy. It was impossible to see straight through it to the other side. He caught sight of the doors and didn't see anyone standing there.

With a huff, he pushed off the tube and sent the doors a glare. "I thought you were being sarcastic," he snorted.

"And I thought you were smarter than that." A voice purred in his ear and a hand closed over his mouth to keep him from shouting out of surprise. Jack's heart pounded against his rib cage as he was pulled against a cotton-clad chest, another arm reaching around his stomach to keep him close. "Did you really think I didn't see you standing outside my office making faces like a toddler?"

Jack shivered when Pitch's lips brushed over the shell of his ear whenever he spoke, his breath hot against his temple. He slowly relaxed in the General's arms, pressing back against him. Even with just his back, he could feel Pitch's muscles and it made him close his eyes to imagine Pitch bending him over his nonexistent office desk and fucking him dry.

"Excited, are we?" Pitch's voice was a low rumble of breath against his ear and it sent goosebumps over Jack's skin. He nodded silently with the hand still pressed against his mouth. "I thought you wouldn't take me up on my offer, but whenever I caught you on camera, looking up at me, I decided you were just _teasing_." The hand around his stomach dropped to his waist and Jack's breath caught in his throat when that hand brushed over his growing hard on. It didn't stay for long, easing its way under his shirt and stopping with a light touch against his chest.

Jack's hands, once frozen in the air in his initial shock, dropped. He grabbed the sleeve of the arm reaching under his shirt--not to stop him, but rather to steel himself in case his legs gave out. Pitch held him closely enough to assure that wouldn't happen. Pitch's hands were cold against his skin and Jack shivered as goosebumps spread along his stomach.

The hand on his chest brushed over his nipple and he moaned sharply in surprise, the hand covering his mouth barely enough to muffle him. He felt the low rumble of a silent laugh behind him and tried to crane his neck to look at his perpetrator. It caught him off-guard at first, that Pitch, that the _General_ , could be so...well, _playful_. He was toying with Jack in the best kind of way and it sent a flutter of anticipation through Jack's stomach, made him eager to know what else Pitch had in store for him.

His breath hitched when Pitch brushed his nipple again and tried to hide the moan when slender fingers pinched him. The hand covering his mouth began to drop away and Jack almost felt disappointed to feel it go. The pressure of being taken, of being at the complete mercy of his captor, sent heat spilling all throughout his body, and without the hand there to muffle him, he felt a little more open. It was all at once strange to him to realize that he didn't _want_  to feel like he could get away. Of course he knew that if he showed any true signs of struggle or even simply told Pitch to let him go, that the General would oblige without hesitation, but he liked to believe, just in this scenario, that Pitch was ready to take him no matter what, that Pitch desired him so truly that he couldn't resist grabbing Jack and fucking him against the nearest wall whether Jack was ready for it or not.

But _oh god_  was Jack ready for it.

"You'll be sure to keep quiet, won't you?" Pitch's voice brought him back and Jack blushed at all the thoughts going through his mind. Just how dirty _was_  he? He couldn't remember having these types of thoughts before. Sure, he thought of a few kinky things like anyone did, but nothing like this. Pitch made him feel absolutely _filthy_  without having to do much of anything at all, and Jack _loved_  it.

Jack didn't think it would be too hard to stay quiet until Pitch reached for the waistline of his pants, undoing the button, and reaching inside. Pitch's hand didn't go inside his briefs, his long, skilled fingers brushing teasingly against the material that felt both too-thin and too-thick at the same time. Jack's breath caught in his throat and he held his own hand up to catch his moans. Warm lips pressed against his neck as Pitch continued to stroke him from the outside of his briefs. His other hand scraped sparks across his chest and Jack whined, frustrated to feel himself getting so close already, even without Pitch having to touch him directly. It was humiliating and he was too fucking happy about it.

" _Touch_  me," Jack gasped, pressing hard against Pitch's form when a shudder sent his legs shaking. The grip on his chest moved to his waist, holding him tight to keep him upright.

Pitch breathed a chuckle against his neck, putting Jack's hair on end. "But Jack, I _am_  touching you. What more do you need?" Jack didn't need to see his face to know there was a cruel smile there.

" _Pitch_ , I-" A moan escaped him and he knew he'd be embarrassed for it later. Pitch grasped him through his briefs and those slender fingers stroked him from base to tip. With the material pressing tightly against him, Jack felt like he was going to suffocate. All his clothes felt too tight, too hot, and he was vaguely aware of a thin sheen of sweat coating his skin as Pitch breathed against his neck.

"You _what_ , Jackson? Just tell me what you want and I'll give it to you."

Something about that left Jack shuddering. For the second time being with Pitch, he felt his eyes well up with tears in a way they never had before doing this sort of thing with anyone else. He closed his eyes against them, threw his head back against Pitch's chest, swallowed a groan. Heat was building up and his legs were shaking. He knew he wouldn't last long, but Pitch just wouldn't _give_  it to him. The bastard shifted his grip from feathery touches to heavy strokes and it was driving Jack _crazy_.

He breathed harshly around his own hand as Pitch nipped at the base of his neck, licking and sucking the skin to add another light bruise to Jack's pale skin.

More than once Jack opened his mouth to tell Pitch what he needed, but only a murmur of nonsense spilled out and he had to hold his hand against his mouth again to muffle his moans. He glanced briefly up to the ceiling where the tube disappeared outside the ship and wondered if the Warrant Officers sitting in the conning tower were close enough to hear them. His cheeks heated at the thought, another groan of pleasure wrapping through him.

"I- I need, I need-" Jack felt himself come so _close_  he stuttered on a moan and whined out in frustration when Pitch pulled his hand away again. It took every ounce of concentration for him to gather his senses enough to formulate a coherent sentence after that. " _Fuck_ , Pitch, I need to you _fuck_  me."

"Oh?" And Jack could hear the hint of amusement in Pitch's tone, followed by a growl of pleasure as the hand around his waist pulled him closer almost possessively. "That much I can do."

"God, yes, please, Pitch, just-"

A broken moan slipped past Jack's lips and he swallowed the rest of what he was going to say. He pressed one hand against his mouth and the other gripped the sleeve of Pitch's shirt like it was the only thing keeping him steady. Jack cried out suddenly, legs buckling under him, and Pitch barely managed to hold him up long enough to let him sink safely to his knees.

Jack took a moment to breathe heavily, one hand still wrapped tightly around Pitch's shirt sleeve and the other bracing himself on the floor. His eyes were glossy and the heat that spread throughout him felt _amazing_  and he wasn't sure he ever wanted that feeling to go away. He loosened and tightened his grip on Pitch's shirt sleeve a few times as if to remind himself that the General was still there and smiled to himself when he felt the older man lean against him, kneeling on the floor behind him and rubbing soft, soothing circles on his back. He recalled Pitch doing the same thing last time and leaned into the gentle touch. It made him feel like he was more to Pitch than a fucktoy, and he was sure Pitch didn't think of him that way, but Jack wasn't sure how else Pitch could perceive him if not just some guy he could entertain himself with every once in a while.

The thought came as an unwelcome low after the high of his release and Jack cast it away like a bad taste in his mouth. He leaned back against the body behind him and breathed out a laugh. "You're definitely..." He paused, licked his lips, laughed again. "You're definitely good at that."

Pitch hummed out a noise of agreement and when Jack turned his head to look, the General was wearing a dangerous expression that sent a chill of pleasure through his spine. The heat in the General's silver gaze was intense, muffled only by the sweet way he ran his fingers through Jack's damp hair. "Maybe I'm just feeling inspired." Jack felt the chill again and smiled. "Can you stand?"

Jack leaned his head back and pressed his cheek against the warmth of Pitch's neck, sighing wistfully. He wondered why he ever avoided going to see him for so long. "Won't you carry me?" Pitch sent him a narrowed look that Jack imagined he would get, and the soldier laughed. "Right, right, I got it. I'm getting up."

Jack grabbed Pitch's hand and used the wall to steady himself as he tested his legs. They shook, but after a moment, he managed to take a few steps towards the door with Pitch to lean against. When they reached the corridor, he frowned down at himself. His cheeks flushed red at the stain over the crotch of his pants. It looked like he'd peed himself, but he knew it was much worse than that.

He looked up as Pitch hid a small smile behind the very hand used to get him off and Jack pouted. Pitch looked like he might say something, but ended up snorting his amusement and started walking away. Jack rolled his eyes and followed after, embarrassed to know he'd gotten off without Pitch ever needing to even completely touch him. Although the General had let out a small notice, he didn't make Jack feel _bad_  about it. In fact, as Jack watched the General walk ahead of him, he couldn't help but think of all the things he wanted to do with him once they reached his office.

As they neared it, Jack frowned and looked over his shoulder at the long corridor behind them. "Don't you have your own cabin?"

Pitch gave him a curious look, but nodded slowly in confirmation. "My quarters are at the very end of the hall." He shrugged a shoulder in the direction they'd just come from. "They're not very impressive, though, if that's what you were wondering."

Jack shifted his gaze, a blush coating his cheeks. "Well, not exactly _that_."

Pitch blew out a laugh, raising an eyebrow at him before narrowing his eyes in a way that sent familiar goosebumps over Jack's skin. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind."

They came to the office and Pitch lead Jack inside. Jack took his seat on the chair at the end of the table like he had the last time, peering down at the papers sprawled across it to see if he could make anything out. He spotted a doll on the couch and reached over, startled when it suddenly giggled all too loudly. It perfectly mimicked a little girl laughing and he laughed at the look Pitch sent his way for touching things he wasn't meant to.

Putting the doll aside, he picked up what looked like a battle strategy, trying to make sense of it. "Are these the coordinates for those who went on the recon mission a few days ago?"

Pitch strode over and peeked over his shoulder, nodding in confirmation. "Some of them, anyway. The planet they reached is small, but there's a lot of wildlife for them to take cover in."

"Why would the shadows be hiding out on some uninhabited planet?" It still didn't make any sense to him and he still wasn't happy he didn't get to see the reason why for himself.

"Well, that is what I plan on finding out." Pitch took the papers from Jack's hands and looked him over hungrily. Jack suddenly remembered he was the only one who got off and licked his lips in anticipation as Pitch loomed over him. "Would you like to keep discussing this or shall we continue where we-"

A knock at the door startled both of them and Jack sighed out in relief when he realized Pitch must have locked the door behind them. He didn't even consider it. It was late, so most people were either on duty or relaxing in their cabins before curfew. Pitched placed the papers down and motioned for Jack to stay put as he crossed the room to unlock the doors. Jack peered over as they opened and froze as he saw Commander Irra standing there.

She smiled at Pitch. "It's one of those nights," she said. Jack wondered what that meant, but remained silent.

Pitch looked hesitant at first, but quickly conceded and moved out of the doorway to allow her entry. "Please, then Commander, come inside."

Irra was all smiles until she spotted Jack sitting across the room and her face fell into the deep frown Jack was used to seeing. He crossed his legs self-consciously and leaned against the arm of the chair, hoping his body would hide the wet stain down the front of his pants. He gave her a grin and a small wave. "Overland? What are you doing here?" She didn't look happy to see him

"We were just having a talk," Pitch replied for him, walking up behind her with a small cup. Jack wondered where he got it from and just noticed a small table by the door with a teapot, cups, and saucers. Pitch silently offered the cup to Irra who accepted it with the barest hints of a smile. Jack thought the small cup looked strange in her hands. "As you know, he's been getting in a bit of trouble lately. I've decided to snuff it out."

Jack resisted the urge to roll his eyes only because Irra was watching him so intently. For a moment, he thought she might've saw right through their facade. He wondered how she would react if she found out and decided he really didn't want to know. "General Pitchiner's been keeping me in my place," Jack chimed. She didn't seem convinced, eyes narrowed like a hawk on its prey. Jack felt small under her gaze and shifted uncomfortably. "He's a good counselor," he added, voice smaller than he wanted it to be.

Irra's expression changed to something almost akin to understanding and Jack was surprised to find her gaze soften. She nodded. "Should I come back another time?"

Pitch shook his head and motioned for her to sit. "No, we were finished." He and Jack made eye contact and Jack's stomach fluttered warmly. "It's nearly curfew anyway. Go back to your cabin, Overland."

Jack nodded. He still waited until Irra sat before standing, glad that she was too busy staring absently at her tea to look up at him. He'd never seen that look on her face before and it lead him to wonder what kind of relationship she and Pitch really had. Obviously, the two of them met up often. She seemed quieter than usual. She was much less guarded around Pitch. Jack felt like he was intruding on something. "Goodnight, Commander. Goodnight, General."

He and Pitch shared the briefest of looks before Jack left them alone. He felt the slightest pang of jealousy as the doors closed behind him. Pitch and Irra had known each other a long time. She'd been in the Golden Army for years before Jack ever came along. She, Pitch, and Captain Dervish seemed to have a history that Jack could never be apart of. Jack heard stories passed around the ranks about the three of them fighting alongside each other for as long as anyone could remember. Jack felt bitter thinking about it. He would never know Pitch in the way Dervish and Irra knew him. He would never be close to him in the special way that they were and that bothered him.

Pitch was just the _General_. Just over a week prior Jack hardly thought anything of him and now he found his thoughts filled with him. He found himself wanting to get closer to him--and not just through touch (although that was definitely welcome, too). He wanted to get to know him better, but he wasn't sure if Pitch even liked him in _that_  way. As far as Jack knew, Pitch just enjoyed having him as a distraction from his boredom. Why would he need Jack when there was Irra? Or Dervish, for that matter, although Jack didn't think Pitch would ever take Dervish in that way. (The thought brought to mind an image he would rather not have in his head).

For the time being, Jack tried not to think about it too much.

\--

Meeting with Pitch after dinner became a regular thing after the second time. Jack's nerves eased up and he would visit the General in his office whenever he felt himself getting antsy. Pitch never seemed to mind and always welcomed his visits. Every so often, Commander Irra would interrupt them, but she seemed to buy that Jack was just there for some light counseling. It certainly wasn't Pitch's job to see to it that each individual in his crew was healthy physically and mentally, and nobody would ever consider seeing him of all people with their problems, but nobody questioned Jack when they saw him go up to the quarter deck to speak with him.

Around the fourth week of this, Jack met up with Grant during lunch and they started talking again. Jamie was on patrol duty for the rest of the week, so he and Jack didn't have a lot time to talk to each other, not that Jack was exactly complaining. Jamie kept asking questions, trying to pry, and coming up with excuses to settle someone who could see right through him was starting to get on his nerves.

"I'm surprised you haven't seen Cas since your little incident," Grant mused, talking around a mouthful of mac and cheese. Jack wrinkled his nose and pretended to ignore it while he picked at his own meal. The last thing he wanted to think about while eating was Cas. "Heard he got dropped to Petty Officer, for sure."

Jack shrugged and swallowed his mashed potatoes. They were plain and dry, but eating was just another chore on the _Nova_. The cooks only got so many supplies whenever they stopped to get some more and they usually prepared the same meals every week. There was always plenty enough to go around, but after eating mashed potatoes, mac and cheese, and fried star fish for the hundredth Wednesday in a row, it got a little tiring. The only food Jack still looked forward to was the special chocolate cake they served on the last day of every month or after a mission well done to cheer everyone up.

"I haven't really thought about it," Jack admitted. With Pitch to keep him occupied, Cas and his lackeys were the furthest things from his mind. "Besides, you weren't exactly the most helpful when Cas started beating the shit out of me." He sent Grant an accusatory glare and the Private shrugged off the guilt.

"It's whatever." Grant stood and wiped the crumbs off his shirt. "I've gotta get to my station. Try to stay out of trouble, Overland."

Jack glanced down at Grant's untied laces and smirked. "Oh, I'll try," he drawled. Grant picked up his tray and as soon as he passed by Jack, the icy-eyed imp stepped on one of the loose laces.

There was a brief moment where Grant's eyes went wide as gravity caught up to him. He tossed his tray to catch his balance, but ended up in a heap on the floor with everyone in the vicinity holding their laughter. He sat up and looked around before turning back to narrow his eyes at Jack's laughter-lit face. His confusion burned into anger, but before he could say anything, Jack spoke, pointing a finger at his untied laces. "Looks like you tripped over your own laces, Private."

Grant blinked dumbly down at them and Jack could practically see the wheels turning in that big head of his. He bit his lip to hide the smile growing on his lips. "Oh," Grant said finally, anger washing from his expression. "My bad." He laughed shortly and pulled his shoe out in front of him to tie the laces up properly before getting to his feet. "You're clear this time, Overland."

Jack watched him leave before getting up himself, chuckling under his breath and shaking his head as he handed his tray to the Privates on KP duty. "Too easy," he huffed.

A body blocked his path out of the mess hall and he looked up at the girthy form of Boa staring down at him, cheese-dirtied ladle still in hand. "Jackson, you're on galley duty. After dinner, prep the apples for tomorrow's meal."

He gawked up at her. "Why me?" She silently raised an eyebrow at him as if the question was too packed to give a simple answer to. He dropped his shoulders and looked away defiantly. "Fine. I'll do it."

She smiled. "I knew you would."

Jack sighed and went on his way once she moved on. He didn't think it would be too bad for just one night, but after lunch the next day, Boa stepped in his way again. She gave no explanation whenever he asked and he knew there was no point in arguing with her. She didn't have any actual authority over him, but if he didn't do as she asked, she could get someone who did to tell him to do it anyway. Either way, she handled his food and he didn't like to get on her bad side.

By the next week, he was starting to feel antsy. He didn't have any time to visit Pitch after galley duty before curfew and he didn't want to bother him any other time during the day because he knew the General would be much too busy with other things. He still made faces at the cameras, but mostly he just focused on pleasing Boa to get her off his back.

After having her block him off for the eighth day in a row, Jack finally sighed. "Lemme guess, peel potatoes for tomorrow's brew?"

She nodded, looking pleased. "That's right."

Before she could leave, he cut her off. "So what's the deal with all this? I haven't done any pranking. I didn't mess up the food or release the live stuff." Although he'd definitely considered it once or twice.

Boa looked almost thoughtful. She tapped her finger under the lion tattoo. "First night, it was because you tripped that boy." She gave him a wry smile when he realized she must have been watching him the whole time. "After that, Elva told me to keep you busy. I assumed you were getting in trouble elsewhere."

"Elva?" Jack frowned, trying to figure out why the name sounded familiar. When it came to him, his frown deepened as confusion set in. "Commander Irra? Why would she- I haven't done anything wrong lately."

Boa shrugged. "Not my business to ask." That seemed to be the end of it and Jack watched her walk off. He wouldn't have spotter duty until the next day, so he wouldn't be able to ask Irra before galley duty that night, which meant he was stuck with it until he could talk to her. She wasn't exactly the most chatty person, especially when she was just overlooking his work station, but if he was doing something she didn't like he wanted to know about it.

He was stuck peeling potatoes again that night. He was getting better carving, putting eyes in the fifth potato he'd made to look like Pitch. He smiled down at it when he could make out the face more clearly and turned it over to work on the hair.

He nearly dropped it when a voice startled him from the doorway. "So this is where you've been hiding."

Jack caught the potato before it could fall and quickly lobbed it in the pile with the rest. He looked over at Pitch with a smile, wiping sweat from his brow as the General leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He looked pleased to see Jack, but not quite happy. "I guess Boa has it out for me. She's given me galley duty every night this week." He sighed and leaned back on the stool to crack his back. It got tedious after a while and he was only about half way done with the pile. He looked at the rest of the potatoes with a frown.

"Have you been getting yourself into trouble?" Pitch remained in the doorway and Jack returned to peeling.

He shook his head. "Not really," Jack admitted. He didn't want to mention it was Irra's doing, however, so he left it at that. "No more than usual anyway."

Pitch shook his head and walked over to him. His footsteps were loud in the otherwise silent room. All the other workers in the kitchen retired to their cabins a short while back. Curfew wasn't for another hour or two.

Jack felt the familiar thump of his heart as Pitch came closer. He could feel the General's body heat as he leaned over his shoulder. "Your method of peeling doesn't seem to be very efficient." He motioned to all the good bits of potato on the floor mixed up with the discarded peels.

Jack rolled his eyes and carefully curved his knife around the next potato. "I'd like to see you do any better."

"I've done my time," Pitch sniffed. "You forget that I haven't been a General forever."

Jack laughed. He tried to imagine a young, Private Pitchiner, shaky and loyal and stuck in a stuffy, sweaty room peeling potatoes. "I can't really imagine it," he said after a moment. Pitch just seemed naturally authoritative. Jack couldn't imagine him any other way. A sour pang in his chest reminded him that Dervish and Irra probably could. They'd probably seen Pitch before he was General Pitchiner. It was just another reminder that Jack hardly knew anything about him.

"Doesn't this wear you down, day after day?"

Jack sighed and reached for another potato. He gave a shrug in response. "I guess. I've had it so many times now that I'm used to it." He turned and aimed his smile at the General. "It's not that bad."

Pitch seemed caught off guard for a moment, but quickly gathered himself and gave Jack one of his small, fleeting smiles in return. It warmed Jack inside and he leaned against his side. Pitch ran his fingers through Jack's hair and he sighed contently. Jack didn't think he would mind doing much of anything as long as Pitch was at his side.

"Of course, I miss my freedom," Jack went on after a few minutes of peaceful silence. Pitch glanced down at him, silently encouraging him to continue. "I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but I stowed my sail ship on board. It's just a sloop, nothing great, but she's great out in the Sea of Stars. I built her up myself- well, my dad taught me how, but I made up most of her. Runs smooth. Sometimes when the shields are down, I take her out and-"

"You leave the airship?" Pitch narrowed his gaze and Jack shifted uncomfortably.

"Well, not recently, but I've done it before. The shields have been up since the shadows attacked the generator a while back."

Pitch frowned and the hand left his hair. Jack looked up to see his expression and regretted it. He didn't look happy. "How did you know about that?" Pitch's tone was calm and collected, but held back a hint of carefully concealed ice.

Jack remembered they were never informed of the actual cause of the  _Nova_  shaking during that time. He turned away and focused intently on the potato in his hands. "I just overheard it from some Officers," he lied coolly. He could feel Pitch's eyes on him, but he didn't hesitate and continued peeling. "Look, Pitch, it's not that big of a deal. I've never run into shadows."

"You _could_  have." Pitch stepped away from him and crossed his arms again. "You could have lead shadows right to us! What were you _thinking_?" He shook his head and pressed a hand to his forehead like he couldn't believe what he just heard. "Not only is that selfish, but- I'll be making sure this doesn't continue. If I hear about you leaving the ship, I _will_  strip you of your rank."

Jack's eyes widened. He dropped the potato in the pile, caring less if it was finished or not. The pleasant feeling he had faded into bitterness. Of course he shouldn't have forgotten that Pitch was still the General. He just thought Pitch might understand. He just thought that, maybe, Pitch might understand _him_ , but of course he wouldn't. He and Pitch were just fuck buddies. They hardly knew anything about each other.

He huffed and turned his gaze away. "You're just like Jamie," he mumbled. When Pitch raised his brow, Jack spoke up. "I know what I'm doing. I'm not a soldier for no reason, Pitch. I've been here over two years. I've been fighting the same Fearlings you have. I just like my freedom every once in a while." He gripped the carving knife in his hands and glared at the small pile left for him to do, not moving to reach for another.

Pitch straightened by his side. "I've wondered how you've been here so long and haven't yet risen in rank. Even despite your pranks, I thought you should have been promoted, but now I see that the simple case is that you're _irresponsible_."

Jack felt his anger spike and he turned to glare up at Pitch, dropping the knife and rising to his feet. "Irresponsible?" He threw his hands up and made a noise of frustration. "I can't believe you. I haven't lead us into a hoard, have I?"

"Jack, calm down." Pitch gave him a narrowed gaze and Jack sighed loudly, sitting back on the stool and feeling very much like a child being chastised. He hated the feeling. He hated that it came as something familiar to him. "To make your way in the military, you need to prove yourself." Jack lifted his head to give him a tired look, confused that Pitch would change his tone so quickly. "You've proven that you're irresponsible. If you want others to think differently, you need to take the first opportunity that presents itself and change their minds."

Pitch placed a hand on his shoulder and Jack heaved a sigh, feeling the anger leave him as the man's tone softened. "I'm still the General, Jack. I have to keep my troop's best interests at heart." The hand on Jack's shoulder squeezed lightly before Pitch lifted his hand to trail light fingers over the back of his neck. Jack shivered. "Although, I apologize for snapping at you."

Jack huffed out a laugh as he reached for another potato. He picked the knife up off the ground and went back to peeling. In his silence, Pitch continued. "You know, it's odd."

"What?" Jack lifted the potato up to the dim light. "It's supposed to be the Captain."

Pitch peered down at it before laughing shortly. "I wasn't talking about your carving abilities." He went back to running his fingers soothingly through Jack's hair. "I meant, you, specifically. When you first came aboard, I thought nothing more of you than a nuisance among the ranks. I assumed you would grow out of it. However, the longer I watched you and the trouble you made, I slowly came to realize that your doltish endeavors became something I began looking forward to. And once we started speaking...," he trailed off.

In the silence, Jack looked up to find Pitch staring down at him endearingly and flushed, looking away. His chest fluttered, like the wings of a bird flapping against his ribs. "Once we started speaking, what?"

The hand in his hair fell to his neck and Jack couldn't help but remember the mark left there last time. "I've come to enjoy your company," Pitch finished, a soft smile behind his tone.

Jack smiled, wiping his wet hands on his pants before reaching for the one on his neck. He pulled it down closer to him and matched their hands together before lacing their fingers between each other. Pitch squeezed back lightly and Jack felt that familiar warmth that came along only when he and Pitch took the time to talk. It was different than the heat of lust. It was a soft warmth that settled deep inside of him, like an afterglow whenever they finished, and Pitch would rub his back, or pet his hair, or squeeze his hand. They hadn't yet kissed and Jack very suddenly wished they would.

He looked up into Pitch's eyes, searching blindly. He realized then that he felt the same. Somewhere along the line between the heated moans and needy friction, Jack had obtained another sort of attraction for Pitch without ever realizing it until now, in this quiet moment. He wasn't sure how to voice this, though, and he hesitated when he considered that Pitch's feelings might not be exactly the same.

"Jack?" Pitch looked concerned and Jack realized he'd been silent, staring at their connected hands.

Jack reassured him with a smile. "I was just thinking that this is pretty nice." He sighed contently. "That's all."

Pitch nodded and Jack took his hand back, dropped it to his lap for a moment, and then reached for the knife again. For a moment, Pitch looked like he might say something else, but he seemed to decide against it, expression changing to something more subtle that Jack couldn't quite read.

They remained together for the rest of the time, sometimes in silence, sometimes talking quietly, as Jack continued to work and Pitch continued to keep him company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is! Sooner, just like I said. In retrospect, I feel like a better name for Jack's sloop would be "Winter" rather than "Frost" but too late to go back now.
> 
> I'm so happy to see the comments and kudos!! You guys give me the motivation to keep on writing this! So! Thank you!


	6. Chapter 6

“In all the ills that befall us, we are more concerned by the intention than the result. A tile that falls off a roof may injure us more seriously, but it will not wound us so deeply as a stone thrown deliberately by a malevolent hand. The blow may miss, but the intention always strikes home.”

― _Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Reveries of the Solitary Walker_

\--

Jack woke up with a feeling that something was off. He rushed through his morning routine and just left his cabin in time to hear the General’s familiar voice come over the speaker system. He froze in the corridor, a few others standing around with him. They nodded their greetings to each other, but otherwise remained silent to hear what the announcement was.

“All crew members report to the muster station immediately. Those on duty are temporarily relieved. Commanders will oversee the stations in your absence.”

The announcement clicked off and Jack shared a look with the few others in the corridor. As he turned to leave, some others left their cabins and followed after. Nobody spoke, walking with a sense of urgency in the direction of the muster station. Luckily for Jack, it was on the same floor as his cabin, off towards the front alongside the stairs that non-coincidentally lead down to the flight deck on the eleventh floor, as well as the emergency escape hatch.

There was a line when Jack arrived, but the soldiers knew better than to push and shove and they all filed in easily after one another. There weren’t any seats, so they all stood, trying not to crowd against each other, but still leaving room for others to file in around them. The room was silent aside from the sound of footsteps as the people from the upper decks finally reached the room. As Jack entered, he picked Jamie out of the crowd towards the front and off to the side, and eased his way around the others to stand near him. They gave each other a silent nod in greeting and shared looks that told Jack that Jamie knew just as much as he did about all of this.

The muster station was large and round, extending out wider than it did tall. Despite how roomy it should be, with all the bodies huddled close together, Jack still felt hot and suffocated. He never cared much for tight, enclosed areas, and after too long he usually felt a spark of panic in his gut, so he hoped the meeting wouldn’t take long. The station was used for emergency situations, so whatever Pitch was going to announce had to be a big deal. While Jack would be stupid to admit it out loud, he was kind of excited to have something new happen, even if it wasn’t particularly a good thing.

The doors closed as the last of the soldiers fell into the crowd and Jack saw Pitch, standing tall amongst them all, make his way towards the front. Pitch’s figure rose above the crowd as he stood on a small platform at the front of the room. He motioned to someone off to the side where Jack couldn’t quite see and after a few moments, a handful of soldiers joined him on the platform, standing nervously behind him. Their eyes were blown wide, their expressions grim. They looked like a mess. One leaned against another for support as if they were having trouble standing on their own, two had their arms in slings, another had a bandage covering their cheek, their throat, and a few of their fingers.

Jack’s eyes widened when he recognized them. Three were Warrant Officers and three were Privates, with one Private First Class amongst them. They were all of those chosen to go on the recon mission over a month prior. They all looked beaten and bruised and Jack could feel the worry spreading throughout the room. People shared glances with one another, silent questions that were sure to be answered by the General standing before them.

“The reconnaissance group sent out a month and three days ago returned in the early hours of the morning. They immediately reported to me the news of what happened.” Pitch placed his hands behind him. He looked at nobody in particular as he spoke, carefully keeping his expression calm and shielded from any inkling of proper emotion. It was a skill many found difficult, gathered only through years of experience of passing on grave news and having to remain calm for the sake of another’s panic. To be a leader meant that emotions were secondary, personal feelings were to be pushed aside for the sake of the situation at hand. It was important to remain calm in the face of an emergency, to act as the eye of the storm with the storm itself brewing about them all. Pitch was the face of the Golden Army, the centerpiece that all the soldiers looked up to for direction. They were _people_ , they were _lives_. The responsibility of the many was put on the shoulders of the few, of General Pitchiner, and it was exceedingly important that he react accordingly.

“In a group of thirty,” Pitch went on, “nine have returned.”

The impact was immediate, hard as the stone that fell to the pit of each soldier's gut. The soldiers were trained, however. They knew better than to act on their fear, to let their panic spread. They remained as calm as they could manage. There were no sounds, no shuffling of feet, no gasps of shock or cries of despair. Jack felt Jamie tense beside him and steeled himself as Pitch continued, hardly leaving a pause to let that information sink in.

“There are those behind me and two currently being tended to in sickbay,” Pitch explained, tone expertly leveled. “The rest have been reported as deceased. None are missing.”

A few fell to their knees and the others tried not to look their way. It was unprofessional, but nobody would punish a human being expressing their despair. Some of the Privates had only joined a few months prior. Some of those who’d gone on the mission were just as fresh. They were soldiers, but they were friends. They all knew, every individual in the room, what they were signing up for when they joined the Golden Army. They understood the conditions, the possibilities. A war meant loss, not fun. Jack understood that there was no feeling of success in a war, just a dull thrumming of finality once it was over, once a battle was finished. He knew loss, but for some in the room, it was their first time experiencing it. The reality of their situation was probably crashing down on their shoulders, weighing them down. Some would regret. Some would digress. However, they would all persevere, as it was expected of them.

As Jack continued to watch Pitch, he tried to imagine what it must have been like to have awoken extra early in the morning to the news that he’d lost soldiers, men and women of his army. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like to be the General, to know that people died under his orders.

Jack squeezed his hands into fists at his sides, scanning Pitch’s expression in hopes of finding some semblance of hurt, of regret, but he found none. It was impossible to believe he hadn’t been affected by this. He felt the urge to reach out and hold his hand, tell him it wasn’t his fault, that they knew the possibilities when they joined, but he remained still.

After a moment, Pitch continued. “It appears as though the shadows are acting out of the ordinary. They were stationed on an uninhabited planet, which is entirely unheard of. The soldiers that went to that planet for recon were the first humans to be attacked by them in months. From what I’ve been lead to understand, they only attacked because their positions were found out and they retaliated accordingly.”

Jack wondered if now would be the time that Pitch mention his theories to the rest of the crew, but it never came up. Instead, Pitch motioned to someone standing off to the side and Captain Dervish joined him on the platform.

Once the Captain took position at his side, Pitch went on. “It has come to my attention that this situation has become too advanced for lower ranking soldiers. Warrant Officer Marcus has informed us that the shadows have moved to a new location, straight towards the Libra Constellation.” Without a map, Jack tried to envision where that might be in his head from the last time he saw one. He didn’t think the distance was far. “From what we’ve been able to observe in this short time, the shadows have been landing on planets capable of preserving life. We’ve confirmed life for two of the six planets in the new area and believe they may be preparing for an attack. However, the fact that they haven’t yet attacked either planet is deeply…concerning.”

Pitch seemed contemplative for a moment before deciding to move on. “I see no reason to act just yet. Their movements are highly suspicious and we must remain on our guards. I won’t have us prepare for a battle just yet, but keep in mind the entities we are dealing with do not act with reason.”

Jack stared back at him with a frown, squinting his eyes. Normally, he would agree, but after hearing Pitch’s assumptions a while back, he didn’t think the General was giving his crew the entire truth. At the very least, he wasn't sharing his thoughts with them, and that bothered him. Of course, Pitch could just be too unsure in his idea to propose it just yet, but keeping the information from them settled wrongly with Jack. The rest of what Pitch said seemed to be true. He had no reason to lie about any of that. But Jack felt like there was still something missing. Maybe it was something even the General hadn’t figured out yet. It was unsettling.

“Due to the level of danger, I will be leading a special team of high-ranking soldiers into the fray.” Jack’s eyes widened at Pitch’s words and felt himself go cold. Pitch seemed to be purposefully avoiding looking in his direction, instead choosing to glance out at the crowd towards the back. “We will start out as recon, but shall remain prepared for anything. The shadows are massive in number. In the case of a battle, I must go to assure that we do not have a repeat of the last recon mission. This time, we will be prepared. This time, I will be bringing properly trained, experienced soldiers.” He cleared his throat. “In my absence, Captain Dervish will be overseeing those who remain. The _Nova_  will remain stationed in space on the outskirts of the Libra Constellation, close enough in the case that if anything does happen to occur, we can send in extra men or retreat, but far enough out of the way that the airship’s camouflage will not be seen through.”

Pitch went on to ask the Captain if there was anything he would like to add, to which he responded that there wasn’t, so the General continued. “Captain Dervish will be temporarily taking my place in my absence. If any of you have anything to report, you will report it to him. I will be choosing which Officers will be joining me on my mission here shortly and will make plans to leave in two days from now. This concludes our meeting. Dismissed.”

They filed out slowly, shuffling their feet, sense of urgency lost to the disheartening news. Jack hadn't known any of the ones who'd gone on the mission very personally, but he knew most of their names. He got along with the Privates. He kept their spirits up and tried to keep up their confidence by stringing along overly dramatic stories of past battles with the shadows. They had names. They were people. They probably had family back on their moons or planets wishing for their safe return. No amount of wishing on stars would bring back the lives of those who were lost. The only option was to move on.

Jack understood that, so he held himself up high and only offered Pitch the barest of glances over his shoulder as Jamie lead him away from the room. The General remained behind with Captain Dervish, probably to discuss where to go from there.

A nervous tug squeezed at Jack's insides whenever he thought about the meeting. Pitch and a team of high-ranking Officers were to leave in two days' time to investigate the suspicious actions of the shadows first-hand. It was supposed to be a more thorough recon mission than the last, and the new team would be much more prepared for an attack than the last, but it still didn't settle right with Jack. None of it did. Something was wrong, but thinking about it just lead to a bunch of dead ends that could only be solved by investigating the situation further, which was what Pitch was going to set out to do. Jack could only hope they didn't get caught in an ambush and end up like the last teams.

Nobody seemed willing to get any breakfast and those who didn't have any duties returned to their cabins or went off to mourn over the friends they'd lost. Jamie didn't have a whole lot to say. He was sociable, but not as much as Jack, and while he was obviously disturbed by the news of death, he didn't take the loss to heart.

"You've been going to the General's office at night, haven't you?" Jamie asked, walking by his side. Jack nodded slowly, half disinterested in whatever his friend had to say. It was definitely not the right time to bother him about his reasons for visiting the General. "For...counseling, right?" Again, Jack nodded, turning to send Jamie a look of confusion. He didn't understand how that had to do with anything. "Well, General Pitchiner will be gone for a while, so if you need any counseling, you can come see me instead." Jamie shifted awkwardly. "I mean, we're friends, so you can come to me. I never understood why you'd go to the General before me in the first place honestly, but I don't mind as long as it makes you feel better."

As Jack left Jamie for the observation deck, his smile fell away. He didn't think the news affected the Corporal that much, but he wondered if he was wrong. It wasn't the first time the news of death hung over their heads, but that didn't mean it got much easier to deal with. They just learned to hide it better, push the feelings of loss down for the sake of maintaining control. Loss could do two things to a person: break them down or make them stronger. A soldier's way was to use that loss to fuel their fighting spirit.

Jack wanted nothing more than to see Pitch later that night like he'd become to accustomed to doing, but he knew Pitch wouldn't be alone in his office. They had to act fast in case the shadows decided to relocate or attack anyone inhabiting the planets in the Libra Constellation, which was why Pitch set the deadline for two days. In that time, they would need to make plans, chart a course of action, prepare in the case of a battle. Pitch would be extremely busy before his departure and Jack knew he wouldn't have a chance to see him before he left, especially not alone. The thought of Pitch leaving before he would even have the chance to say goodbye left a sour taste in Jack's mouth, but he wasn't sure if there was anything he could do about it.

\--

Two days passed quickly. Jack was so worried about Pitch leaving and never coming back, or getting hurt in his absence, that he completely forgot about talking to Irra. Boa hadn't put him on galley duty over the last couple of nights, but he found it hard to feel grateful when he had nothing to do in his given free time besides fret over what he had no control over.

He had faith in Pitch as the General of the Golden Army. He knew Pitch was strong, skilled, smart, everything he needed to be to provide a worthy opponent to the shadows, but even Pitch could fall prey to their catastrophe. Given the chance, the Fearlings would eat him alive, leave nothing behind but sand in the place of bones. The image sent a chill through Jack's spine as he rushed to the flight deck. Nobody was permitted to go there besides Pitch and his chosen team of Officers as they prepared to leave, and going there would make him late for his duties, but Jack couldn't stand the idea of letting go his one chance to see Pitch one last time. He tried not to think about how it could be the very last time.

He made it to the flight deck as the teams were preparing their schooners. The teams mostly consisted of Lieutenants and Commanders, with a few high-ranking Petty Officers in the mix. Jack wondered why he didn't see any Warrant Officers, but decided it wasn't important. They were all in uniform, Pitch included, and despite the situation Jack couldn't help but think how attractive he was in contrast to his casual garb.

Pitch couldn't hide the fact that he was glad to see Jack, but he put on a stern look in front of the other Officers. "Overland, you are not permitted to be here. Unless you are looking to be reprimanded, I would ask that you leave."

Jack frowned at the full-stop. He looked around as some of the others looked towards him, but they shortly went back to preparing their luggage for the long trip. They would probably be gone a month, if not longer. From the distance between the _Nova_  and the planet they were planning on landing on, it would be at least a three day trip before they even got there. There were ways for them to communicate with the Captain on board, but Jack knew that these ways were limited.

With no one paying any mind to the two of them, Jack gave Pitch a small smile and lowered his voice so they wouldn't be overheard. "I had to see you off." He raised his hand to touch him, but pulled back. Just because nobody was looking their way didn't mean they had any privacy. "I know I shouldn't worry, but... You know as well as I do that the shadows aren't acting as usual. As far as we know, they're unpredictable. I don't want anything to happen to you."

Pitch raised a fine brow, the ghost of a smile finding its way to his lips. It faded just as fast as it came, but it was enough to warm Jack's heart. "It's not like you to worry so much."

Jack laughed dryly. "I've never really had much of a reason to care before."

When there wasn't a response, Jack looked up. Pitch was wearing a complicated expression, one he couldn't quite see through. He worried for a moment that he may have said too much--after all, they weren't any more than fuck buddies, right? What right did he have to say that he cared for Pitch? Was that going too far?

Before he could push himself into a panic, a hand on his shoulder shook him from his thoughts and he raised his eyes to shimmery silver. Pitch was smiling this time, more genuine than any other Jack had ever seen. At first, he thought it might look misplaced on the General's usually stoic features, but instead, it suited him more than any other expression, and Jack stared as long as he could, trying to memorize the look of it, the feel of it, to lock the memory away where it would never fail to warm him the way it did in that moment.

Not for the first time, Jack thought that he would very much like to kiss him.

"That means more than you know," Pitch replied, and Jack mirrored his smile. An odd feeling feathered inside of him, a feeling he'd tried to push away whenever he spent a night with Pitch. He swallowed it down with the knot in his throat as Pitch pulled away. "We'll be leaving soon. You need to leave."

Jack wanted to grab him by the collar and pull him into a kiss they hadn't yet shared. He wanted to squeeze his hand for support, hold him close, have Pitch rub his back and whisper sweet nothings in his ear to make him feel as safe as he always did tucked in his arms. A million things came to mind for him to say, but all the words were pushed down, locked away with those feelings he wasn't quite ready to address. He had to believe that Pitch would return. There would be another time.

Instead, Jack simply said, "Good luck," and turned away.

\--

The _Nova_  returned to its usual lull after the General left with his troops. Commander Irra went on the mission with Pitch, so Jack never did get a chance to ask her why she had Boa put him on galley duty, but that problem seemed so far away that he hardly cared anymore. In the end, Jack simply accepted that he might've just done something to piss her off without even realizing it and left the thought alone.

On the second day of the General's absence, when Jack got off duty, he searched the airship for Jamie. He thought that Jamie offering to talk to him was Jamie's way of saying he wanted someone to talk to, so he didn't want to leave him if something was bothering him. While they didn't talk nearly as often they used to before joining the Golden Army, they were still friends, and there was nobody on board that Jack trusted more than Jamie. The Corporal may have easily got on his nerves from time to time, but that didn't mean he didn't still care for his friend.

He found the brunet in the mess hall during dinner and passed up sitting with Grant to join him. Since Corporals were still lower ranking, Jamie was still permitted to sit in the same room as Jack. Petty Officers and above were allowed to sit in the other room, although it wasn't necessary if they didn't want to.

Before Jack could even open his mouth, Jamie beat him to the punch. "So how're you feeling, Jack?" Of course, that was Jamie, always seeing to others' needs before his own.

Jack gave him a lopsided smile, pleased to hear his first name. "Fine, Jamie." In truth, he didn't feel that great. He thought of Pitch constantly, even moreso at night. He even considered asking Boa to give him extra duties just to take his mind off it. Not only Pitch, Jack thought of the shadows and what they were up to. Once or twice he thought of bringing his theories to Pitch in the past, but whenever he met with the man his mind was usually on other things. He didn't see the point in bothering the Captain with them now. "I was thinking, me and you, cards in the saloon before curfew?"

Jamie flashed a grin. "Sounds good." He took a bite of his sandwich before scanning the room. "You haven't pulled any pranks in a while. Did you learn your lesson after last time?"

Jack gave him a look and shrugged. His mind had been on other things until recently. Pitch had definitely been assuring that his energy went elsewhere. At first, he stayed on his toes because of Cas's warning to get revenge, but he rarely saw him afterwards. After a while, he just assumed whatever the Captain said to him when stripping his rank made him learn his lesson and give up. "Haven't really thought of it, actually," he admitted. "Why, you got something in mind?"

"No," Jamie retorted. "I just thought, with the General gone, and the Captain busier than usual dealing with twice the load, you might be tempted. I know you, Jack. You have your outlets." Jamie shifted uncomfortably and Jack wondered how long he'd been worrying about it, about him.

Jack couldn't help but smile. "You worry too much." When Jamie gave a pout, Jack laughed. "I haven't really considered anything, so you don't have to worry about it, alright?" He brightened after a moment. "If you're worried about someone coming after me, I can take them."

"Yeah," Jamie scoffed. "You handled Cas really well last time."

"I got tag-teamed," Jack explained, talking around a bite of food. "I totally could've taken him."

Jamie rolled his eyes with a laugh. "Sure." He wrinkled his nose. "Don't talk with your mouth full. It's gross."

In response, Jack stuck his tongue out, showing off the pile of chewed up food. Jamie made a noise of disgust and kicked him under the table. Jack nearly choked on the food laughing.

It was nice being able to relax with Jamie for once in a long time. For a while, it seemed like Jamie was only interested in nagging him, and Jack found him more of a bother. He missed being able to have a conversation with him, no matter how stupid. When he pushed away from the table, he felt lighter, like a weight that had settled in Pitch's absence had been lifted slightly. "I'll grab the cards from my room and meet you there."

After leaving, Jack went down to the tenth level for his cabin. The corridors were empty with most people either in the mess hall or their cabins hanging out before curfew, even though it wouldn't be for another couple of hours. The only ones allowed outside their cabins after curfew were the General, the Captain, and those on duty. Every week a new handful of people were chosen for patrol duty, excluding those under Corporals, not that Jack was complaining. Patrol wasn't anything great. They had to walk the halls all night and keep each other awake without waking anyone else up. Nothing ever happened anyway, so it was the most boring job.

He paused outside his cabin and turned, listening for any sound. He thought he heard someone following behind him, but he no longer heard footsteps tapping against the metal floors. Sighing, Jack peered up at the camera and couldn't muster the energy to pull a silly face, not even a wave. The Captain was probably in the office anyway and he probably wouldn't appreciate Jack screwing off.

There were too many things weighing him down. In light of recent events, Jack knew it was selfish to think of trivial things, but he couldn't help but worry. He worried for Pitch. The shadows were dangerous. Their biggest weakness was lacking structure. While they all acted towards the same general goal—destruction—they acted without calculated thoughts. They didn't make plans or build strategies. They didn't discuss things with one another. They didn't _think_ , they just _acted_. But they weren't acting as usual lately. Jack knew that, Pitch knew that. They were even more dangerous than they were before and Pitch going off right to the source to investigate made Jack uneasy.

Aside from that, Jack worried what might happen if— _when—_ Pitch returned. He could be gone for a month, maybe two, maybe longer if the shadows wrecked any homes. Time like that could distance people. He wondered if things would just go back to being the same between them when Pitch returned. What they had wasn't exactly definitive. They didn't have a real relationship. Jack reminded himself of that fact more often than not. They didn't tie each other down. They hadn't even _kissed_. What if Pitch returned from his mission and decided he didn't want to be with Jack anymore? There wasn't anything Jack could do about it if that was the case.

Deciding he'd made Jamie wait long enough, Jack pushed his thoughts away and went inside his cabin to look for the deck of cards. He found them in the bottom drawer of his dresser on the other side of the room and pocketed them, turning back to leave.

He smacked into the door and teetered back with a frown. Reaching out, he tested it with his hand. When it didn't open automatically like it should, Jack checked that he hadn't locked it on his way in. The panel on the side glowed red, showing that the door was locked, but he didn't remember locking it behind him when he only planned to grab one thing and leave. Hesitating, he placed his hand over the unlit panel, half expecting it not to unlock. System errors were uncommon, but not unheard of. They happened. He would just have to hit the communicator and wait for someone to come bail him out.

The panel flashed green and the doors slid open.

Jack blinked, stepped forward, and suddenly saw black.

His instincts kicked in immediately and he elbowed the body behind him. He came in contact with whoever it was and reached for the bag over his head. Before he could even grab it, something hard and heavy slammed over his head and he slumped to the ground.

"Shit!" The voices swam above him as he tried to keep his consciousness. "We're still in the open, moron. What'd you do that for?"

"I didn't think he'd hit me! Fuck, kid hits hard."

"Someone's coming, go back, go back." Jack felt himself being lifted off the ground and he mumbled something incomprehensible. He squeezed his eyes shut and pushed away from the hands pulling him back into his room, but they held him tight against them. His arms were pulled behind him and he felt the start of panic as his awareness started returning. These were people, solid bodies, not shadows.

"Lock the door." Jack turned his head in the direction of the one not holding him.

"Should we really be doing this in his room?" A third voice. _Millie_. Then it clicked. D'gell was holding him, Cas was standing nearby. Millie was somewhere by the door. He couldn't tell if there were any others in the room, but he doubted it. His cabin was as small as any other's.

"Well we can't drag him out there, can we?" Cas spoke next, his voice a sneer. "There's cameras out there. _I_  wanted to do this after curfew on patrol, but you pansies didn't want to sneak past the others." There was a sound of material shifting and Jack glared through the dark material draped over his head. It felt hot and stuffy and smelled too much like raw potatoes. "Look, relax, okay? We do this now and get back long before curfew."

"Let's just do this and get it over with. This is the Privates' corridor, we'll stand out if we're caught down here."

Cas clucked his tongue and Jack felt a tug on the bag. For a moment, he thought Cas was removing it, but instead, he pulled a string and tightened it around his throat. He could still breathe, but the rough material of the bag rubbed uncomfortably against his skin. "Hey, Overland, welcome to the party."

Jack coughed, his head throbbing. "Some party. No hors d'oeuvres?" He shook his head. "What are you trying to do, Cas?"

D'gell cussed behind him. "He knows it's _us_."

Jack nearly laughed at his stupidity, but he couldn't find it in him past the growing aggravation. Even without being able to see, he was sure Cas rolled his eyes before replying. "Of course he knows it's us, dumbass. Even rats can figure that one out."

He felt D'gell freeze up behind him. "Then what's the point of the bag? If he knows it's us, he's just gonna rat us out when we're-"

"D'gell, relax." A hand reached over Jack's head and grabbed a fist-full of hair through the bag. He hissed at the sharp pain of having his head turned back and forth. "It's not called a blanket party for no reason."

Jack sucked in a sharp breath. "Blanket party? Those have been outlawed. If the General finds out, you're-"

"The General's not here right now," Millie replied. She still sounded further away, like she was hovering by the doorway. She sounded just as sure about this as D'gell, which wasn't very much at all, but he doubted either of them would go against Cas.

But she had a point. The General was off the ship. He wouldn't return for a month, maybe more. Jack could still easily tell another high-ranking Officer, or even the Captain, so he didn't understand why they were risking all their years to haze him. "This is stupid," he spat. The hand around his hair tightened its grip and he flinched.

Cas spoke again. "I have ways of keeping you quiet, Private."

Jack tried to assess the situation before anything started to escalate. There were three of them, all older, all much more experienced than him, but he could handle himself. His room was small however, and getting from where he was to the door, unlocking it, and running out to the hallway in the cramped quarters without any of the three stopping him seemed unlikely. A small part of him hoped Jamie would come looking for him for not meeting him in the saloon.

The hand loosened and dropped away and Jack decided it would be worse to try and not succeed, than not try at all. With his arms held behind him, Jack stomped hard on D'gell's foot. The soldier cussed and loosened his grip enough for Jack to pull away, striking blindly at the space in front of him. He hoped to knock Cas off his guard so he could push past Millie and reach the hall, but his punch fell short through empty air. Something hit the back of his knees and he fell to the floor. A foot stood solid in the center of his back and Jack coughed as the air left him.

"You stupid shit!" The foot lifted just before someone kicked him hard in the gut, enough to turn him on his back. Another foot slammed down on his stomach, stomping down before he could even try to catch his breath. It stomped down again and when Jack coughed, he felt something splash back into his face and hoped it wasn't blood.

He curled into himself to block some of the kicks, but a booted foot slammed hard into his arms and the pain sent waves all the way up to his spine.

"D'gell! D'gell, save some for the rest of us."

Jack wheezed when the kicking stopped, coughing up blood against the bag and trying to remember how to breathe past the pain. Whenever he tried, he ended up coughing again.

Behind him, he vaguely registered heavy breathing. "What's the plan, Cas?" Whatever hesitance D'gell had before fell away to resignation. He sounded like he couldn't wait to tear Jack's limbs off and hurt him with them.

A boot pushed Jack on his back again and Jack groaned at the sudden movement, wanting nothing more than to curl in on himself. He didn't have the strength to reach up and remove the bag. He knew he wouldn't get far if he tried escaping a second time.

His arms were curled around his stomach as if they could hold the pain back, but someone grabbed at them and pulled them away. His arms fell to the ground at his sides and he bit back a groan of agony as someone stood on them with all their weight. He felt them crouch over him and ground his teeth together. Cas wanted him to feel humiliation, like the kind Jack made him feel in the mess hall, like the kind Jack made him feel in the training arena. Jack wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.

"Are you scared yet, Overland?" It was Cas who stood over him and if there wasn't a bag over Jack's head, he would've spat in his face. "I told you I'd make your life shit. All you had to was stay out of my way, but you're a curse. Every single time I come around you, something bad happens. Is that what happens to everyone who goes near you?" The boots pushed his hands painfully into the cold, metal floor. "How many lives have you ruined?"

Angry, Jack kicked out, trying to knock Cas off of him so he could feel his hands again, but someone else held his legs to the ground. He tried testing the weight, but laying on the ground, there was no way he would be able to push Cas off him.

"You make a mess out of everything," Cas continued. "How many times have you heard that? By your friends? By your family? Your lovers?"

There was a scoff down by Jack's feet. "Like this shrimp could get a date."

Cas barked a laugh. " _People_  get dates. _Garbage_  gets rats." For a moment, Jack thought all Cas was going to do was talk him to death, but the elder crewmate's voice went cold all of a sudden. "Let's get the party started."

There was a flash of pain as Cas punched him square in the face. Jack shouted in alarm, but another punch had him blacking out again. He tasted blood in his mouth. It was hard to tell if it was blood or sweat wetting his face. His muscles strained as he tried to move away, but D'gell held his legs and Cas was too heavy to move from his hands. Another hit to the head and Jack teetered on the cliff of consciousness.

He barely registered the weight lifting off his hands. The voices above him all swam together. He heard what sounded like rushing water. He felt like he was sinking further and further below the surface of the ocean, drenched in his own sweat, blood, and tears.

"-closet for later."

"I'll come back and-"

"-shit, he's really hurt-"

"-just go and-"

"-see all the blood?"

Jack blacked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some party, huh? Not a single party favor. Well, at least they had fun, I'm sure.
> 
> //sings _Kiss the Girl_ whenever Pitch and Jack go near each other.


	7. Chapter 7

“Eventually, it becomes a matter of scale. When the good outweighs the bad, you stay. When the bad is the only thing you notice anymore, you think about your future, or what’s left of it, consider options.”

— _Ellen Hopkins, Rumble_

\--

Jack awoke to darkness.

His head throbbed, his ribs ached. He wasn’t even sure he was conscious until he tried to sit up and pain wracked through his body, jolting him awake. There was no denying he was alive, that was for sure. He managed to drag himself over to a cool, metal wall and take a moment to figure out where he was and what was going on. The thought of Cas’s frosty-haired face came to mind and he slammed a fist against the wall behind him. The pain of impact shook him down to the bone and he cried out, carefully cradling his throbbing hand and reminding himself not to try that again.

Red grabbed his vision and Jack tilted his head back to gaze at the emergency lights overhead. With no other lights it was hard to make anything out, but after a short while his eyes began to adjust and he tried taking in his surroundings. It was obvious he wasn’t in his cabin. The walls were the same as ever, so he was still somewhere on the _Nova_ , which meant Cas and his insane posse hadn’t cast him out into space. Jack tried to feel relieved about it, but all he could feel past the pain was anger.

They were _soldiers_. They were grown men fighting each other instead of fighting the cause they were meant to fight. Jack could admit his prank went a little overboard with the General stepping in, but he never intended for that to happen. It wasn’t like he ever sought Cas out specifically to drop garbage on his head in a room of their peers. It could’ve been anybody, and yet Cas chose to take it personally. What was eating him was his own problem, not Jack’s. Dragging the others into his little revenge scheme was just cowardly.

The lights reminded Jack that he had other things to worry about. The emergency lights only came on when the ship was in trouble. Eventually, they were meant to fade so the usual lights could return and make it easier to see, but the fact that they were still blinking meant the generators were down. From that point, the lights would be running on reserves. Without all the generators working properly, the _Nova_  would be stilled in space, the shields would come down, and they would be an easy target for an attack.

Panic brought him to his feet, grinding his teeth against his limbs screaming at him to sit down for another week or so. Stumbling forward, Jack fell short of falling by another wall. He knocked against it, squinting against the lack of proper lighting. It felt hollow, like plastic, and through it he could see the blurred lights blinking in the corridor on the other side. His jaw fell open, he stepped back, took in his surroundings just to make sure- but it was obvious where he was.

“The fucking _brig_?” Jack’s hands slammed against the thick, opaque walls blocking his way to freedom. Pain shot through his wrists with every impact, but it didn’t stop him from trying, not for a while anyway. When his hands tingled from the strain, he begrudgingly dropped them away from the wall. If he didn’t manage to get out of the cell, it wouldn’t do him any good to break his hands. He was in enough pain already.

He took a few breaths to calm himself, closing his eyes against the lights that were starting to worsen his headache. He dropped back to the ground and rested against the wall by the door, trying not to think about how he was trapped on the lower level in a small, enclosed room with no way out during an emergency of all times. The only people who even knew he was down there were Cas and his posse of two, and he doubted either of them were exactly ready to come rushing to his rescue.

“Think, Jack. You’re not trapped. There’s a way out of this.” He talked aloud to himself to distract from the panic growing within him, like a seed thriving to grow out towards the blinking red lights.

It was hard to think about the positives when there were so many negatives, however. If the airship was running on reserves, the cameras would be down, which meant even if anyone was monitoring them, they wouldn’t be able to see him way down there anyway. He tried wracking his mind to remember what happened between Cas attacking him and waking up in a cell on the eleventh level, but it was all a blank pit of darkness, much like the situation he found himself in then. He could vaguely recall something about someone coming back for him later, which led him to believe, even without consciousness, that Cas was the one who threw him in the cell in the first place. He probably thought it’d be funny.

There were cameras that viewed the corridor, but if Jack remembered correctly, none of them directly faced the interior of any of the cells, so even if the airship wasn't in a state of emergency, there was a low chance of the Captain seeing him anyway. Cas probably planned to keep Jack locked away until he promised- what? Undying loyalty? Servitude? Something just as stupid, probably. And now not even Cas would be coming for him when there was obviously something going on.

The General wouldn't be available, either. Even if the Captain managed to contact him about the emergency, Pitch was at least two days away by then, if not further. Jack had no way of telling how long he'd been out. It could've been a handful of hours, or it could've been a full day. He doubted it'd been any longer than that, though. Cas packed a punch, but his wounds, from what he could tell, were shallow. They hurt like hell, but Jack doubted he'd been put in a coma from them.

The brig was eerily quiet and Jack tried to listen carefully to see if he could hear anything from above. He thought he might have heard footsteps or shouting, but from where he sat, there was just as good a chance that it was his imagination. The silence was crushing him. There was no way to contact anyone for help, no way of knowing what the emergency was. As far as he knew, the danger could've passed, the crew could've escaped, and he could be the only one left on board the _Nova_ ; a singular, forgotten Jackson Overland left behind to rot in the brig. He tried to believe that Jamie would at least remember to look for him, but what if he hadn't had the time? What if they were boarded by Dream Pirates? They were part of the shadows, and from the General's information the shadows were deep in the Libra Constellation, so it seemed unlikely that they would overlook a group as large as the Dream Pirates themselves. Fearlings and Nightmare Men traveled as they pleased, but Dream Pirates were called as such because they chose to travel by stolen vessels, which was why it was so surprising that they'd left the _Shooter_  behind all that time ago.

"You're in some real trouble, Overland." Jack took a few deep breaths before standing again. He tried to imagine that the walls weren't actually closing in on him as he walked to the door. It was made of the same plastic-y material. The only way to unlock it would be if someone used the card key. The cells worked on the reserve power just like the emergency lights so prisoners wouldn't escape in case the generators went down. He stood back and kicked the door as hard as he could. It didn't budge.

His felt his breath start to hitch in his throat as he kicked the door again. It was solid, thicker than the usual metal walls. It was meant to keep prisoners in, even though they rarely had any. All the other cells should be empty. The vaguely translucent material was useful for an Officer on the other side to keep watch of the prisoner during interrogation. It was the same material the cylinder conning tower was made out of.

He knew more than anything that he was alone in that cell, but still he could feel hands grabbing at him, pulling at his clothes, crowding around him, tugging his limbs, scratching his arms, his legs, his face. He felt the cold chill of panic freeze his limbs and he forced himself to push past it, kicking at the door once again, a shout of rage powering it. Again, the door didn't budge. He felt invisible hands wrap around his bruised ribs, around his throat, and he gasped for the air that escaped him. Panic prickled at the edge of his mind as he sank to his knees, banging against the door, each shout more frantic than the last until he was curled in on himself in the center of the cell, alone, choking, sobbing, panicked.

Jack wasn't sure how much time passed. He tried to count the seconds out loud, tried to remind himself the suffocating feeling was all in his head, tried to remember what his mother used to do when he got like this. She would hold him in her arms and rock him like a child, even as he grew older. She would run her fingers through his hair, and rather than tell him that he was being ridiculous or pathetic or needed to grow out of it, she would just hum until it was over.

Alone in the cell, Jack ran his fingers through his hair. They caught on knots that stung when he tugged them free too roughly, but he didn't mind. Rather than think of his mother, it reminded him of Pitch, how his elongated appendages soothed him in the aftermath of their relations. After a moment, he choked out something that was half-laugh, half-sob into his free hand. He tried to remind himself that it was just a room, that he was alone. The walls weren't moving in to crush him, there were no hands on his throat or pulling at his clothes. The only thing suffocating him was himself.

Just as he was beginning to pull himself out of his panic, a voice caught his attention. "Overland!" At first, he thought he was imagining it along with everything else, but it came again, closer, clearer. "Overland!"

Something banged against the door to his cell and he jumped, uncurling from himself to look up just as the door buzzed open. Millie stood in the doorway looking down at him. Her hair was up as it usually was, but a few strands were pulled loose. She looked like she dressed in a hurry, wearing her uniform pants and boots, but a white tank top. Jack was both ecstatic and livid to see her.

She stepped inside the cell and crouched down to his level as he pushed himself into a sitting position. She reached out like she wanted to touch his face, but he smacked her hand away. Her expression hardened. "Overland, I get that you're angry, but there's an emergency situation and I'd really appreciate it if you could save the angry tangent so we can get out of here."

"Where's Cas?" Jack wasn't sure why that was the first question that came to mind above everything else going on, but he wanted to make sure he wasn't going to barge in there and beat the shit out of him again.

Millie hesitated. "I'm not sure. I couldn't find him. Somewhere on board, I'm sure."

There was something in her tone that made him uneasy. He tried pulling himself back together to focus on the situation at hand. "What happened after I blacked out?" He held a hand to his head, migraine effectively reminding him of its presence under the red glowing lights. "I don't remember anything after you three busting me up."

Her expression softened some as she looked at him. "I'm sorry about that. I mean, I knew what he was going to do, but I didn't think that it'd be so- I don't know. I wish I stopped him."

Jack held no sympathy for her. She had more authority than Cas did. If she wanted to keep him from doing the things he did, she could have done it. "Yeah, well, you didn't, so here we are."

She nodded somberly and rose to her feet. "I'll explain on the way to the cargo bay." She held a hand out for him. "Can you stand?"

He nodded, getting up on his own without her help. He followed her out of the cell, relieved to be away from the small, enclosed room, but not at all happy about the situation. The cargo bay was on the same floor they were already on. The flight deck took up the front area, the brig took up the far back, and in between was the cargo bay, which also held the emergency escape hatch. The hatch lead to five small vessels that were only meant for those who couldn't get to the flight deck, or if the flight deck got destroyed. He hoped that wasn't what she was going for.

As they walked, Jack tried to listen for sounds of distress, but he couldn't hear anything but the occasional far away thud. He hoped they were footsteps. "Tell me what's going on."

"You've only been out a few hours," she explained. She kept one hand pressed against the wall like she was afraid of the _Nova_  suddenly shaking. "Things were fine after we left your cabin. Cas was going to leave you there until curfew. He said he was going to wait an hour or two so the Captain would be asleep before going back for you and locking you in the brig." She blew out air and shook her head as if hearing herself explain it out loud made it sound ridiculous in hindsight. "He stuffed you in your own closet. He's always going on about you. It's childish."

Jack wrinkled his nose, anger rising in him again until he eased it back down. "How'd he get the card key to lock me in?"

Millie stared ahead as they reached the door of the cargo bay. It opened as they drew near it. Before she passed through, she held up the key she used to unlock Jack's cell, guilt tracing her features. "Senior and Master Chief Petty Officers get a key to the cells. It's another one of our duties to lock away criminals if we ever apprehend anyone."

"So you just let Cas have it?" Jack stared at her in disbelief. She continued to avoid looking at him as they entered the room. He sighed as she went off to a pile of boxes against the right wall. "Okay, so, you're as bad as each other, whatever. What's the emergency? Where is everyone?" A pause before adding, "Why'd you come back for me?"

"Shadows." Her voice rang clear in the otherwise silent room. There was no mistaking what she'd said. Jack sucked in breath, felt the air leave his lungs. Suddenly, standing in a room shrouded in darkness without so much as a weapon to defend himself with seemed a lot more risky. The red lights were blinking in there, too, but they weren't very useful. When they flashed on, they cast more shadows in the corners they didn't reach, and when they flashed off- well, anything could be hiding around them. Jack's only comfort was the knowledge that if there were any shadows in the room with them, they would've attacked already.

Millie continued once the news set in. "About two hours into curfew, the generators went down. Lots of people didn't notice since the lights were already off and they were sleeping, but the ship rocked from the impact. The shields went down. The shadows slipped in real easy after that." He followed her voice to where she stood hunched over a large box, pulling clothes out and dumping them on the floor behind her. At first, he thought she was looking for a shirt, which seemed ridiculous with all things considered, but he soon realized she didn't seem interested in any of the clothes as she continued digging to the bottom.

"What happened to the generators?"

"Hell if I know." She barely tossed him a glance over her shoulder as she dropped another pile of uniforms. He looked at them and considered changing, but as long as he was wearing his boots, he didn't see a purpose in wasting his time looking for a pair of clothes that fit him. The uniform had been upgraded in recent years with the shadow outbreak. Alongside the built-in envirotech, they were sturdier, made of a special material that would block against their claws, which could be considered poisonous if struck. If Fearlings or a Nightmare Man dug their claws into someone, their poison would seep from the point of contact and seek out the mind. Within minutes, the victim would experience terrible waking nightmares. If not treated properly, they could go mad, or strike out against the innocent. Some were more susceptible than others. The uniforms were designed by General Pitchiner himself.

Jack thought of the generators, the wheels turning uneasily in his head. He wondered if the shadows had been planning the attack for _months_ , dating all the way back to the time they snuck in and took down the first generator. At the time, Pitch said they all left, but they very easily could have tricked him, could have left a few shadows lying in wait for a time of weakness. Did they plan for the General to leave the ship with some of his best soldiers? Did they plan to bring them to a weaker state and then attack in the night, with one Fearling left behind to disable the generators so the rest could attack once the shields were down? That sort of planning seemed completely out of the norm for them. Were they growing smarter as time passed? Were they capable of learning?

Jack's mind exploded with the possibilities. They were in real danger here. Even if they got out of the situation at hand, who wasn't to say the shadows had a back up plan? The shadows attacked in the night when they would all be at their weakest. Even the Captain had probably gone to bed. Hardly anyone would be in uniform. Jack could only hope to believe that those still tending to their duties saw the emergency lights and urged everyone into action before the shadows got the upper hand.

When Millie didn't find what she was looking for, she cussed and opened another box next to the first and started digging again. Jack stood warily by the door, heart racing, eyes constantly scanning for any sign of movement. He felt restless standing there doing nothing while his fellow crewmates were being attacked up above. "What are you looking for?"

"Weapons," she briefly explained. She looked as frustrated as he felt.

Jack frowned. "Weapons are stored on the fifth level by the training arena. There's just clothes and extra parts for schooners down here."

She let out a short laugh, tipping inside the large box as she reached for something that must've been at the very bottom. He almost felt the urge to reach out and hold her legs, but she caught herself without falling in. "That's where you're wrong, Overland." When she pulled out, she dropped about half a dozen swords in a pile at her feet. He flinched at the noise they made when they clanked against the metal floors, but felt the tiniest sliver of hope as he stared at them. "Funny enough, Commander Irra told me about them." Her smile didn't reach her eyes as she looked at the pile, but it easily could've been the lighting.

Jack left his place by the door to grab a sword. They were mostly spadroons with a couple of small swords thrown in, one cavalry. He picked up the spadroon and tested its weight, feeling safer already with a weapon in hand.

Millie took the single cavalry, shooting him a wry smile when she caught him looking at her curiously. "I prefer the weight of it," she explained simply. "It's not just a man's sword, skinny-arms."

Almost, Jack smiled, but he reminded himself that Millie was half the reason his ribs ached and his head pounded and it fell away. "You never told me why you came for me. Shouldn't you be up there fighting against the Fearlings?"

She raised her sword, thrust it against the air a few times, sighed, dropped her arm. "People are doing what they can up there. When Cas woke me to warn me of the attack, he didn't have..." She bit her lip, considered something, shook her head. "I couldn't find my sword. The Fearlings were thicker the higher I tried to go, so I went down. I remembered Elva telling me about the stash down here in case of an emergency and I figured since I was heading here anyway, I might as well break you out."

Jack tried not to think of what he suspected _really_  happened with her sword and accepted her explanation for what it was. If it wasn't for her, he'd still be curled up in the dark waiting for the shadows to come and take him while he was defenseless. Then again, if it wasn't for her, he never would've been there in the first place, so his feelings were a bit torn.

Twisting the sword in his hand, he steeled his nerves and nodded at the door. "Well, you got what you came for. I'm going up." He tried not to think about the impending danger and lead the way out of the room. They were quiet in the corridor until they reached the stairs. Jack quickly checked the flight deck to make sure there weren't any soldiers there in need of assistance. He was surprised to find it empty, but now that he was closer to the stairs, he could hear more sounds.

He jumped as a hand touched his shoulder and Millie flinched back apologetically. "Sorry, I know you're tense. I just- I need you to know before we go up there, that whatever happens, you can trust me to have your back. I know my track record with Cas hasn't been the best in your case, but I'm _not_  Cas." She gave him half a smile. "I've got you covered, Private."

Jack huffed and shrugged her off, feeling bitter over everything else. "You'll forgive me if I don't exactly believe you." He turned back towards the stairs and went up a step, paused. If something bad happened up there, he didn't want things between them to end on a bad note despite her wrongs against him. "Just, watch my blindspots, will you?" He caught her smile in the corner of his eye and gave her a small one of his own before climbing the stairs.

Instantly, noise returned, muffled before from the lower levels. Jack expected them to be swarmed by Fearlings the instant they reached the tenth level, but there were few in sight. The noise came from further up. Millie ran up behind him and he followed her inside the muster station, where a soldier in uniform was placing two others against the wall and checking their pulse. His relief when he stood was contagious and Jack let out the breath he'd been holding when he saw them.

There were others in the room huddled around each other. None looked dangerously injured, but they seemed to be discussing a plan of action. Millie approached them. "Where are the rest of them?"

As expected, one of the women pointed up towards the higher levels. "They started down and worked their way up," she said, cradling her arm to her chest. "They went for those still in their cabins. Not...everyone woke up fast enough when the generators went down."

Jack and Millie shared a look. "I'll check the cabins down here, make sure nobody's sleepwalking," Millie told him. "At the worst, they'll have some pretty harsh nightmares, but it's better than the poison." Jack nodded, following her back out of the room. "You make your way up and see what you can do in the fray. I'll be up as soon as I'm done." She hesitated a moment. "Think you'll be fine, Private?"

Again, he nodded. "You have more experience dealing with nightmares. I can handle myself."

They went their separate ways and Jack continued up the next set of stairs. The instant he reached the top, a Fearling swooped down on him, nearly knocking him back down the staircase. He managed to avoid it just in time to twist around it and bring his sword down its back as it faced the stairs. It screeched as it died, but it didn't fade as he expected it to.

Their anatomy had always been a mystery to him, but this... This was _wrong_. Usually, they faded as if they really were formed of pure shadows, but they were still physical, tangible. It didn't take a whole lot to kill them, but they attacked in swarms, and dealing with too many at a time could lead to dangerous results. Usually, they were quicker, which made them a dangerous adversary. However... The Fearling fell into a pile of pure black sand at his feet. Its movements had been fast, but not as fast as he was used to. The sand was new.

He wasn't sure what to do with the information, however. Shadows to sand meant nothing. They obviously still fell apart like they used to, just into a pile of sand instead of a cloud of smoke. He didn't have the time to focus on what might have caused the change.

Just as he expected, three more came to replace the one he killed, trapping him by the stairs. Past them, Jack could see that the majority of soldiers on that level had been sectioned off, backed into corners or surrounded by a group, mostly one against a few. It was probably like that on the other levels. They had no time to build a strategy before the attack. The airship was a tight, enclosed area, which meant it would be easy to take out the Fearlings in sight, but also easy to get trapped by them.

They held small swords that jabbed at him, rocking his balance. Jack cursed under his breath as he tried to wave them off, but ended up being forced to take a step back as they closed in on him. He took three more steps back, carefully leading them down, avoiding their swipes. They weren't as fast as they usually were, attacking with jerky movements and lacking a strategy. Jack took out one of the three and lead the other two back down the stairs into the hall so they wouldn't have the height over him. When one jabbed at him, he dodged, pushed their sword up and out of their a hands with his own and struck them down the middle. Just as the third moved to attack, the sword from the second one dropped down, splitting it down the center from the head. He smirked at his handy work and quickly moved on.

Two of the soldiers that were previously trapped by a group of Fearlings broke free by the time he returned and were rushing to help a few others surrounded by groups. Jack helped a pair that looked like new Privates, back to back but shaky, not watching their sides. They looked relieved to see him and he ushered them down to the lower level for safety.

Jack fought his way up to the fourth level, narrowly dodging Fearlings on every floor, taking them down where he could. He could never bring himself to stop and check the pulse of an unconscious soldier. It ate at his mind, but he knew that if he stopped and checked and confirmed the worst, it would only hinder his progress. If they were unconscious, they would be looked at another time. If they weren't, there was nothing he could do for them, anyway. There were plenty others still on their feet, still fighting the enemies aboard. He helped the ones injured or struggling, but otherwise had his own to deal with.

Silently, he prayed for Jamie's safety.

A scream grabbed his attention and Jack ran to the mess hall. The room was larger than many others, but he'd already adjusted to the lack of light. The red lights above flashed consistently and he saw plenty enough through them. In the back of the room, he saw D'gell scrambling back against the wall on the floor. His weapon had been cast aside as another soldier stood over him. Jack kept his sword raised as he neared them, on high alert for any Fearlings but seeing none.

D'gell saw him approaching and waved an arm at the soldier getting closer, sword swinging wildly, blindly. "Overland! He's poisoned! He won't listen to me!"

Jack realized the situation just as the soldier swung his sword just above D'gell's head, a few strands of hair falling away as he ducked just in time. Jack quickly kicked the solder in the back of his knees, knocking him to the floor and giving D'gell time to scramble to his feet and rush past Jack, out of the room. Jack turned to see him running away. "Hey! Stay and help-"

A sword cut through the thin material of his shirt and Jack cried out in pain, holding a hand over the wound. Blood dirtied his palm, but he could still move. He didn't think it was deep enough to be a concern. As he looked up, the soldier had swiveled and swung at him. He could see the face clearly then. "Cas! Cas, you're hallucinating!" Jack jumped back as Cas swung his sword, fierce and mad, expression twisted in rage. He looked blind in the way he turned his head every which way, seeing enemies that weren't actually there. He struck the air to his right, hitting nothing as nothing was there to begin with.

"Cas, relax, think this through." When Cas heard his voice, he turned back on Jack, swinging his sword. Jack narrowly bounded out of the way, one hand up defensively, the other holding his sword to block any sudden attacks. Cas screamed and struck out at random, fighting enemies that only he could see. He was going to hurt himself if he kept going.

As soldiers fighting the shadows, they were taught of the very few ways to subdue a soldier poisoned by Fearlings. Knocking them out was an option, but not recommended, as the nightmare could consume them and make them into a sleepwalker, which was similar to what Cas was now, only the body would be fully unconscious and reasoning would be even more useless. It could either keep them down or make them twice as dangerous. The other option was to bring their minds back to reality, and there were very few ways to do that. To some, it could be done simply by hearing the voice of a loved one, or hearing their favorite song; to others, it needed to be pain.

"Cas- Cas can you hear me? Overland? The guy you hate?" Cas struck again, growling in growing frustration. "Alright, can't say I didn't try the nice way." Carefully stepping to the side, Jack struck out at Cas's opening, his sword digging into the Officer's shoulder. Cas screamed in pain and dropped to his knees, his sword falling to the ground beside him as he covered his wound. It wasn't nearly enough to harm him long term. He would be fine once the bleeding stopped, but the shock of being stabbed should've brought him back to reality.

As the madness in Cas's dark gaze started to fade, a resentful part of Jack couldn't help but enjoy his small revenge for the pain Cas put him through. There was no telling how long Cas planned on keeping him locked down in the brig, or if he ever planned to play with his prey. He was an older officer, but he sure as hell didn't act like one. Murky green rose to meet icy blue and Jack could see the cloud fade from Cas's expression. "Overland?"

Jack nodded. "Sorry to see me, huh?"

Cas still seemed confused as he looked around the empty mess hall. He reached for his sword and winced at the wound in his shoulder. As he looked up again, he stared at the blood on Jack's own sword, still fresh. His eyes narrowed, his grip on the handle of his sword tightened, he rose to his feet. "How did you get out?" His eyes flashed and Jack worried that he might still be stuck part-way in the world of nightmares. "I put you in your place, Private. There's no way you could've gotten out of there."

Jack frowned. "Millie got me out. Look, Cas, we're in a state of emergency here. She's probably still down on a lower level. You're hurt. You should go find-"

"I'm hurt because _you_  stabbed me!"

When Cas rose his voice, Jack took a step back. "A Fearling got their claws on you. You were poisoned, stuck in a nightmare- Look, I did what I needed to do for your safety. I-" Jack barely avoided Cas swinging his sword at him, eyes locked on target this time around. Despite his surprise, Jack lifted his sword up to protect himself. "What the hell are you doing? We're under attack! We need to help the others!"

" _You_  attacked _me_ , Overland." Cas swiped at him again and Jack blocked it. His hands vibrated painfully from the force of the strike. While Jack was a good swordsman, Cas was older, more experienced. "I don't believe you." His voice dripped with venom as he struck again. For every step Jack took back, Cas took took one forward. "Humiliating me just wasn't enough for you, was it? You lead them here, didn't you? And now you're _still_  trying to get rid of me!"

"Cas, I literally have no idea what you're talking about!" When he wasn't focusing on blocking Cas's sword, Jack looked for something to get Cas away from him, but the tables were connected to the floor and the chairs were cleared from the room after dinner. "You're the one who attacked me in my own room! And then you dumped me in the brig! Millie-"

"Millie?" Cas's tone darkened. "What did you do to her?"

"I didn't do anythi-"

"I don't believe you! You're trying to kill me!" Again, Cas swung and again, Jack blocked. Cas stopped holding back, rushing at Jack with his sword, striking with the intent to kill. Jack couldn't tell if that was really what he believed or if his mind was still dealing with an aftereffect of the nightmares, but trying to reason with him wasn't getting him anywhere. On an airship full of shadows, Jack still found the worst of his troubles in Cas.

As much as Jack hated him, he didn't want to kill Cas. When he couldn't hold the Petty Officer off any longer, he turned and ran out of the mess hall, Cas close on his heel. Jack ducked and dodged as well as he could, the pain in his side growing with every step forward.

Cas chased him up another level before the Fearlings found them. A group of a dozen or more swarmed the two of them instantly as they arrived, driving them back into one of the upper observation decks. In a strange turn of events, Jack found himself with his back to the soldier who, up until recently, had been chasing him with the intent to kill.

Two Fearlings struck at his side and he ducked under their swords, swiping them low and dragging his sword up through them. He took out another three, disarming two more and dodging their claws. Without the thick material of his uniform, he was an easy target for being poisoned with their nightmares. He didn't want to end up like Cas had. He wasn't sure what could pull him out.

He saw Cas dealing with his own at his back, fighting one-handed with his injured shoulder. Neither of them spoke. Jack bit his tongue more times than once against the urge to spout some witty banter. He didn't think Cas would appreciate the distraction and he didn't want to remind the older crew mate of his anger towards him. He hoped by the time they fought their way out of the mess, Cas would be too tired to keep trying to kill him and give it up.

Behind him, Jack felt Cas leap out of the way as a Fearling lunged at him. The sword aimed for Cas missed and struck Jack, slicing through the thin material of his shirt and digging into his back. He cried out in pain and dropped to the floor, sword sliding across the floor out of his reach. He turned onto his wounded back just in time to twist out of the way of the Fearling stabbing its sword into the ground by his head. The Fearling tried pulling its sword from where it stuck in the metal floor and Jack scooted away from it, pain wracking up his spine.

"Cas!" He looked to his fellow soldier who stood warily off to the side, sword in hand.

Cas looked at Jack, then at the Fearling who was beginning to give up on its weapon. The Officer raised his sword, paused to consider, lowered it again, and Jack could feel the panic rise in him as the Fearling followed him up against the wall. " _Cas_!" Jack turned his wide-eyed gaze on Cas, wondering why he hadn't yet done something. "What are you doing?" He kicked the Fearling back, but it rose to its feet and aimed for him again.

"I think the fate would suit you, Overland." Cas flashed a toothy grin, pushing sweat-soaked frosted bangs from his forehead. "You've managed to worm your way out of everything else I've ever put you through. Let's see you get out of this mess."

As Cas turned to leave, Jack dropped his jaw in disbelief. "You can't leave me here! _Cas_!" But Cas was already gone, and Jack was left alone in the observation deck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -And cliffhanger!
> 
> I'm the writer and Cas still makes me want to throw him out of the airship and have him float around in space until some stellar shark eats him whole.
> 
> Will Jack make it out of this alive? Will the Fearling get its victim? Will Cas have a change of heart and return for our hero??? Stay tuned to find out next week!


	8. Chapter 8

“Reality continues to ruin my life.”

  
― _Bill Watterson, The Complete Calvin and Hobbes_

\--

"Cas!" He looked to his fellow soldier who stood warily off to the side, sword in hand.

Cas looked at Jack, then at the Fearling who was beginning to give up on its weapon. The Officer raised his sword, paused to consider, lowered it again, and Jack could feel the panic rise in him as the Fearling followed him up against the wall. " _Cas_!" Jack turned his wide-eyed gaze on Cas, wondering why he hadn't yet done something. "What are you doing?" He kicked the Fearling back, but it rose to its feet and aimed for him again.

"I think the fate would suit you, Overland." Cas flashed a toothy grin, pushing sweat-soaked frosted bangs from his forehead. "You've managed to worm your way out of everything else I've ever put you through. Let's see you get out of this mess."

As Cas turned to leave, Jack dropped his jaw in disbelief. "You can't leave me here! _Cas_!" But Cas was already gone, and Jack was left alone in the observation deck.

The Fearling struck at him with its claws and he moved his head to the side. The claws dug into the metal by his head. They scratched down, screeching, and Jack's ears rung at the offensive sound. He scooted away from the wall and tried to scramble to his feet, but the sudden shock of pain through his back made him drop to the ground just as the Fearling converged on him again. His sword was too far out of reach and there was nothing for him to grab. He could hear others outside the room, but they were all soldiers dealing with Fearlings of their own. The only one who had any chance of saving him was the one who left him to die.

In the red blinking emergency lights, the Fearling looked twice as ominous, ghoulish smile breaking its face in half as he tried halfheartedly to kick it away again while still trying to avoid it digging its claws in his leg. He shouted in a mix of fear and frustration as his back hit the control panel. There was nothing for him to grab, nothing for him to do.

He shut his eyes against his fate.

The moment took too long to pass. Before Jack could even open his eyes, the Fearling shrieked and dissolved into a pile of sand. "Overland!" He opened his eyes, blinking up at his savior in disbelief. His heart punded almost painfully against his chest and he realized he was panting, breathless. The fear had wiped the air from his lungs. It was almost hard for him to believe the danger was gone so soon.

"Jamie?" For a moment, he felt like it was too good to be true. He looked wildly around the room for any signs of his vision suddenly becoming a nightmare. He checked himself for any scratch marks and found none. When Jamie crouched down in front of him, he had to stare to make sure it was really him and not a wicked version of him that would stab him in some state of delusion. When Jamie reached out to touch him, he flinched away. "Tell me something so I know it's really you."

Jamie's face twisted in confusion, but he quickly recovered. "You wet the bed until you were twelve." When Jack didn't look convinced, he continued. "You never wore shoes because you said it was easier to climb trees without them. Everyone thinks your favorite color is blue, but it's yellow. You were terrified of white rabbits in winter. Whenever you'd see one, you'd climb a tree and refuse to come back down until you were sure it was gone. One time you even spent a whole night in a tree because one made a nest outside your home and you refused to go back until your mom moved th-"

"Okay! Okay, Jamie, it's you, I get it." Jack's cheeks tinted pink and he glared at his friend's cheeky grin. "They blend right in with the snow and bite your toes when you're not looking. They are not to be trusted."

"They only bit _your_  toes because you never wore shoes," Jamie retorted.

Jack snorted and rolled his eyes, muttering, "Whatever." He breathed out to calm himself down and held his arm out. Jamie grabbed him under his arm and helped him to his feet. The pain waved over him, but it wasn't intolerable. He could stand.

When Jamie pulled his hand away, his eyes were wide. "Jack! You're bleeding! Turn around." Jack winced as Jamie pulled at his shoulder, defenseless to keep him from ushering him around. He heard Jamie gasp behind him and bit his lip in worry. "It looks bad, but it's hard to tell in this light." He felt Jamie prod around the wound and tried not to hiss whenever he poked too close to it. "I just ripped some of your shirt so it won't stick to the wound. It looks shallow, but you should be alright until we can get it treated."

Jack turned back around and nodded. He grabbed his sword, biting back a groan at the pain of bending over to get it. "I can still fight. Are you good?"

Jamie looked like he wanted to argue, but decided better of it. "I'm fine, but we're swarmed. I don't know where they came from or why the generators went down, but they're all over the ship. I've been trying to help out where I can. I'm just lucky I heard you yell and came running in time to save you." His eyes flickered down to the small wound in Jack's side and the worried expression overcame him again. "I'd really rather you went and hid out down in the lower levels. The shadows are diminishing and there's less the lower you go. I don't think you're in any condition to-"

"I'm fine, Jamie." Jack walked around in a circle just to make sure. The strain wasn't entirely overwhelming. "What's the plan?"

"That's the problem, there really isn't one..." Jamie squeezed the bridge of his nose and Jack just noticed he was in full uniform. There were small splatters of blood on his clothes, but it didn't look like any of it was his. "I've been trying to look for the Captain, but I haven't seen him and I keep getting caught up with the Fearlings. We're missing a lot of our men. The best of them are out with the General and another good portion are locked in their cabins. When the shadows came on board, they went straight for the ones still sleeping so they could feed on their nightmares."

Jack nodded, trying to think of a way out of their situation. They were losing men quickly. If somebody didn't do something fast, the entire _Nova_  could be taken over and Pitch would return to an empty vessel. There had to be a way out. There had to be a plan of action. "Let's find the Captain. If anyone knows what to do, it'll be him."

They left the room, wary of any shadows left lurking about. Jack kept an eye out for Cas just in case he decided to come back to finish him off, but the Officer was nowhere to be found.

They made their way up to the quarter deck. There was a surprising lack of shadows on the floor, but Jack supposed it was just because there weren't many people up there at any given time. He and Jamie moved about cautiously. When they found the office empty, they moved on down the corridor to the room that held the conning tower.

Jack walked to the familiar tower and peered up the spiraling staircase, unable to see anything from where he stood. "Think anyone's up there?" He tried to ignore the memory of the time Pitch caught him in there in a completely different circumstance. Still, being reminded of Pitch made him ache less, just a little. Pitch was still out there somewhere, hopefully far away from danger. "There's only another room after-"

A shout of agony interrupted him. He and Jamie immediately took to the stairs, arriving in the main area of the conning tower just in time to find a group of shadows gathered around in a circle, swords at the ready. Jamie sliced the first in half, followed quickly by three more, and Jack was right at his side taking down as many as he could. It was harder for him with his wounds, but the two of them cleared the way and Jack looked out for any more as Jamie checked on the soldier. When he heard a gasp, he glanced over his shoulder and nearly dropped his sword.

"Captain?" Jack dropped to his knees where Dervish laid on his side, a sword struck through his stomach. He and Jamie both tried to reach out to help, but they were weakly swatted away. Wrapping both hands around the handle of the sword, Dervish used what little strength he had to pull it from his own stomach. It fell to the ground with a clank of metal against metal, and Dervish fell onto his back alongside it. "Oh, god- Dervish..."

The large man spat blood out on the floor. His eyes were already losing their hue, looking every which way as if he was still trying to fight for his life. Jack couldn't see any scratch marks on him, only the distinct gash where the sword impaled his stomach. Jamie pressed his hands against the wound to stop the flow of blood, but Jack feared the worst. Every heavy breath came longer than the last, each one wet with the fluid filling his lungs. He wouldn't have much time left.

Jack opened his mouth and closed it again, wracking his mind to find something appropriate to say. He wanted to tell him that everything was going to be alright, that they were going to patch him up, that he'd be on his feet in a week tops, but it felt wrong to lie to his superior like that. Dervish wasn't a child. He would know.

Finally, Dervish's gaze settled. He coughed, but it did little to clear the blood from his airways. He blinked rapidly, looking first to Jamie, and then to Jack. A smile came to him and Jack could hardly believe that there was anything to smile about in this situation. "Overland, that's you, isn't it? And the Bennett boy?" His voice was weak and far away, but still the two boys nodded. Jamie looked pale as blood leaked past the cracks between his fingers and Jack hoped he could hold it together. He never was very good around blood. "This is nothing. Just a flesh wound. I've seen worse."

"Save your breath, Captain," Jamie urged.

Dervish gurgled a laugh and Jack felt his resolve weaken. He felt powerless and he knew Jamie felt the same. One of the strongest people they knew was dying right in front of their eyes and there wasn't anything either one of them could do about it. No amount of training could get them used to the sight. Nothing could save them. "Got too cocky, I think. Tried taking them on all my own, but damn bastards got the better of me, that they- that they did." He breathed in between words and Jack held on to every syllable. The stars could be fading, babies could be crying, people could be screaming, but to Jack, Dervish was dying, and that was his whole world at the time.

Slowly, they could see the light fade from his eyes and Jack felt the familiar tug of panic well up within him. He wanted desperately to be given a sign of what to do, where to go, how to act, but death, no matter how common, no matter how often occurring, was still a tragedy, and it wasn't meant to be dealt with, only accepted. That was easier said than done.

Dervish twitched his hand, using the last bit of his energy to point behind them. "I tried...for pipes..."

Jack turned to see what he was trying to gesture at, but there was only a control panel for the Warrant Officers to use whenever they were on duty. It was useless without the generators working properly. He turned back and shook his head. "I don't..."

Suddenly, Dervish smiled again. His out-of-focus gaze turned on the two of them for the second time. He seemed to be looking at another time, in a world far away from their own. "Elva, Koz, I'm glad I could be by your sides a final time."

Jamie and Jack shared pained looks. Jamie had quiet tears streaming down his cheeks, falling from his chin and into the blood he was still desperately trying to keep contained. He had to look away.

"I always thought," Dervish went on, eyes rolling up to the ceiling, "that it would be different."

There was a moment of silence as the light left his eyes.

Despite the danger, despite the Fearlings, despite the chaos around them, Jack and Jamie gave the Captain the moment he deserved.

Jack wished he'd taken the time to get to know him better. He wished he could've sat in on one of the conversations he had with the crew in the saloon on quiet nights. He wished it really could've been Irra and Pitch to see him off like the Captain truly wanted.

He felt a spark of anger rise within him and fade out just the same when he took another look at the blood pooled around them. Reaching out, Jack placed his hand over Jamie's and pulled it away from the Captain's chest. Jamie turned and held him tightly, face pressed into his shoulder as he cried. Jack continued to hold his hand and nothing more. There were few words that could comfort the dread of death.

Again, he felt anger. He felt like he'd had his luck stolen from him. He felt like Jamie's had gone with it, and nobody deserved a good life like Jamie did. It was not the first time the two boys had held each other while one another cried and Jack had the sick feeling that it wouldn't be the last.

He stared past Jamie, past Dervish, empty gaze on the control panel beside them as he tried to remember every bit of Dervish's being, as if by memory alone, the Captain could live on. As he stared, a light flashed against the overwhelming darkness around them. It flashed nearly in time with the emergency lights, just as red as them, too, which was why he hadn't seen it at first. Jack blinked a few times to make sure he was seeing it right, but he was sure it was there.

"Jack?" Jamie looked up at him as he moved away, body groaning as he got to his feet. Jack crossed the room to the control panel. He knew what most of them were for, but he couldn't recall ever seeing the one that was glowing on the control panel in his own observation deck. He heard Jamie sniff loudly behind him and walk over to see what he was looking at.

Jack motioned to the button. "Do you know what that does?"

Jamie studied it and frowned. "No, I've never been up here before. I don't usually do spotter duty anyway."

Looking back at the Captain, Jack tried to clear his mind so he could think properly. It hurt to look at the lifeless body, so he turned away again. He pressed his hand against the walls. They were made of the same plastic material as the tube leading up to the room, but the outside of them should be covered with metal. There were very few windows on the airship at all. Spotters saw everything outside the ship through monitors from hidden cameras projecting the area around them. It was good damage control.

In between the plastic-like walls, before the metal on the other side, Jack could just barely make out shapes inside, like tubes or pipes, but it was hard to tell with only the red lights to see by. He recalled the entire room down below looking much the same way, different than any other on the ship, and wondered why it was like that. He never thought to ask the General the first time he visited.

Thinking out loud, Jack asked, "How does the air stay regulated inside the ship?"

Jamie, eyes dried on bloodied sleeves, gave him an odd look. "You mean how do we get oxygen?"

"No- well, kind of. Our uniforms have the envirotech that feeds us oxygen while we're outside the airship, right? But doesn't it keep us from freezing, too?"

"So, you're asking how the _Nova_  regulates the temperature without us having to wear our uniforms on board?" Jack nodded and Jamie frowned, shifting as though he felt like they were wasting their time when they could be helping others. "I, I guess I remember being told there's a system of pipes that trap the cold, condense it, and let it pass through the ship so it doesn't get stuck in the other systems and freeze them solid, or reach the vents and freeze _us_  solid." He sighed and ran a hand through a mess of brunet locks. "You think these are the pipes that do it?" Jack nodded. "Okay, who cares? Overland, people are getting hurt down there, we need to-"

Jack shushed him and earned the first glare out of him all night. Wheels turned slowly in his head, past the pain, past the sorrow. "The pipes condense the cold? So wouldn't they be colder than space? If they were broken, or released, or- or _something_ , it would be like the worst case of liquid nitrogen times, I dunno, a _thousand_ , or something?"

He thought of the shadows. He thought of the sand at their feet. Jamie hadn't seemed to question it, but they definitely hadn't been made of sand before. He thought of the Captain risking his life to climb up to the conning tower for the button that sat before them now. He thoughts of the pipes in the room below them, in the room they were already in, of the information Jamie gave him. It seemed ridiculous. If he was wrong at all, it would mean certain death. If he was _right_ , it was still dangerous. Above all else, it was _stupid_.

And stupid was just what Jack did.

He turned to Jamie, who retrieved his sword and was trying to usher him out of the room. "How would we gather all the Fearlings in one place?" Jack asked, taking his own sword in hand. He tried not to look at the Captain's blood drained body.

"Jack, what are you..." Jamie shook his head. "Overland, look, if you have a plan, just tell me what it is, alright? I hate when you do this. You come up with something and it's usually stupid and reckless and- just let me _help_  you."

"You can," Jack urged. "We need to get the Fearlings all in one place. Here; we need to bring them here, in this room."

Jamie sighed, looking worn and much older than his age. He pinched the bridge of his nose, but looked like he was honestly trying to think. "Children? They feed on them above all else, even more than adults, but there's no kids on board."

Shaking his head, Jack grabbed Jamie's arm and pulled him down the stairs to the room below the conning tower. Once they reached the bottom, he looked around to make sure they were alone before waving for Jamie to follow. They returned to the General's office at the end of the hall, the sounds of struggles returning from those still dealing with fights down below. The thought of anyone else dying like the Captain renewed Jack's spirits and he quickly strode inside and started looking around. He pushed papers off the coffee table and checked the couch cushions, groaning in frustration when he didn't find what he was looking for right away.

Jamie stood awkwardly at the door, keeping watch in case any shadows came up the stairs. He looked uncomfortable to be in the General's office without an Officer around. "What are you looking for?"

Jack ignored him and sat on the couch, peering over the backside of it. He smiled and reached over the back, grabbing something laying discarded on the floor. When he showed it to Jamie, the Corporal frowned. "Is that a baby doll?" Jack nodded, smiling excitedly as he walked over to him, careful to cradle the doll in his arms and not set her off too soon. "How'd...you even know about that?"

"It belongs to the General's daughter. Sometimes he keeps some of her stuff in here. I guess he gets lonely." As if he didn't know better. Jack smiled at the doll, not for the first time hoping Pitch was safe where he was. He didn't know if Dervish had a wife or kids, but Jack was sure Seraphina would be devastated if she lost her father. "Anyway, you already know I came up here. I've seen it before. We're just lucky he didn't put it back in his room. She laughs like a little girl. If we put her on the intercom, the shadows would come running straight up here, wouldn't they?"

Jamie nodded slowly, hesitating. "So the shadows come up here, surround us- then what?"

Jack paused, feigned consideration, sighed. He gazed down at the doll in his hands. "...You're right. It's stupid."

"What? Don't you have a plan?"

He shook his head. "It would bring the shadows up here and keep them from everyone else. I thought maybe I had an idea with those pipes and stuff, but-"

"Oh, Jack, no." Jamie placed his hand on Jack's shoulder. "The button we saw? We don't know what it does. It might have nothing to do with the pipes. And even if the pipes burst, anyone in the room would freeze. The envirotech can only withstand so much, and you don't even have a uniform." He turned away. "Look, we still have our swords. We can fight, side by side, and hope for the best. We'll- we'll find another way out of this."

"Yeah," Jack murmured. Jamie gave him a smile and he returned it with one of his own. "Let me just put this back. I'll join you in a minute."

Jamie nodded and stood in the doorway, keeping on the lookout for any Fearlings. Jack took a few steps into the room, lifted his sword, sighed and laughed quietly under his breath. "Sorry, buddy." He turned and smacked Jamie over the head with the butt of his sword. Jamie fell to the ground, unconscious.

Pulling Jamie into the office, Jack quickly stripped him of his clothes and put the Corporal's uniform on himself. The material rubbed against his wounds, but he tried to ignore the pain as he hid Jamie in the darkest corner of the room. He could only hope that if any shadows came up to the quarter deck, they wouldn't find Jamie unconscious and try to give him nightmares. There wasn't anywhere else to hide him.

He grabbed the doll and searched the office for the intercom, pleading that it worked with the reserves. They should've been considered worthwhile for a state of emergency, but he could be wrong. If he was, he was going to have to find another way.

The button for the intercom was on the wall next to the monitors. Their screens were black, the cameras useless without power. He heard static crackle over the speakers as he pressed the button and squeezed the doll's stomach. Her giggle was louder than he remembered as it rang through the intercom, echoing through every corridor of the airship and back to him on the quarterdeck. He pressed it one more time, kept it in hand, and ran out of the room, down the corridor, and up the stairs to the conning tower.

It took _seconds_  for the shadows to respond. As he climbed the stairs to the conning tower, Jack could hear them screeching down the corridor after the sounds of his footsteps. To make sure they would all follow him into the room, he continued pressing on the doll's stomach, her giggles leading the shadows after him. Dreams were one thing, but the dreams of a child were _precious_. They were pure, they were innocent, and not yet worn down by the trifles of adulthood.

As soon as he reached the conning tower, he could see the shadows taking form on the stairs after him, filling the room below. It was just as frightening as it was out in space without the proper lights. He could just make out a massive, all-encompassing darkness, a void against the darkness that already was. The dark that came from the shadows wasn't just _dark_ , it was the absence of light, and Jack feared them swallowing him whole and washing away his existence. It took everything in him to back away from the form of his fears, narrowly avoid tripping over the corpse of his Captain, and slam his hand on the button behind him.

The reaction wasn't as instantaneous as he would've hoped. Above the screeching of shadows, he could hear the slightest hiss from a pipe bursting too far away for his safety. The shadows were unperturbed by the action and continued to meld and form together into one massive nightmarish creature. They approached slowly, feeding on the fear that rolled out of Jack in waves, drawing it out of him for every precious drop they could before diving in for the final kill.

Jack stared up at the monster in horror. For the second, or third, or hundredth time in a matter of hours, he was sure he would not see the light of life again. He tried to think of Jamie, of Pitch, of his sister, his parents, the goals he would never achieve, and the laughs he would never share, but in the face of his ultimate demise, all he could manage was a scream.

He ducked as the shadows fell to converge him. Behind him, overhead, a pipe burst through the solid plastic of the wall. The open end of the pipe flared at the massive form of the shadows, blasting them with a temperature so cold that it almost felt solid. The temperature dropped; the shadows screamed. Jack cried in disbelief.

The sounds of pipes bursting in the conning town and in the room below filled Jack's ears as the screams of the shadows began dying out. He watched as they released their massive form, all trying to escape as separate entities from the cold that was just too _much_. The temperature of space never seemed to bother them before, but Jack had noticed, they were not as they once were. They were not shadows made of smoke and haze, but sand, dark and glittery below the blinking red emergency lights. Between space and the airship, their movements were slow in a fight, as if they were trying to thaw from their travels.

The plan was a literal shot in the dark. Jack aimed the hypothetical gun and the bullet struck the enemy right in the core. Or rather, the cold air that blasted from the pipes froze all in its path. The shadows tried to escape, but Jack could hear the ones below losing their volume as much as the ones in the tower with him. Frost grabbed on tight to their bodies and began crawling up each of the Fearlings until ice became their forms. They creaked and shattered, nothing but dark sand left behind, hardly visible in the dark of the room.

No more Fearlings came up the stairs for Jack and for a moment, he worried the ones below escaped before the pipes in the room could burst. He tried to move, but found his limbs creaking against his will. It felt as if the very blood that flowed through his veins had run cold. The temperature fell much faster than he expected. Cold hurt a lot more than he ever thought it would.

Still, Jack dropped to his knees and crawled to the stairs. He could feel the envirotech embedded in the uniform trying to work, but it wasn't enough. It wouldn't be enough. The fact that he was still moving was a miracle in and of itself, but he had to make sure his plan had worked all the way. His bones ached against his movements, as if any sudden movement would break their new frailty. He could see his breath underneath the glow of the emergency lights. As he reached the bottom of the steps, he could see a gathering of sand wasting away by the door, as if the Fearlings had tried to escape but couldn't budge it open.

Slowly, Jack managed to use the last of his depleting strength to crawl to the door to try it himself. It wouldn't open and he couldn't reach his feet to see if it would unlock from the inside. He tried to huddle in on himself to preserve the warmth, but there was no warmth to preserve. Frostbite nipped at his nose and the chilly air whispered sweet nothings in his ears, _just give up, it'll be better that way._

The shadows were gone. _Gone_. The crew was safe. Jamie, Millie, Grant, Pitch- all of them were safe. The confirmation settled a peace in the core of Jack's fears and he allowed it.

A memory of a snowball hitting him square in the face brought a smile to his blue, blue lips, and although he was alone, and although he hurt, he still laughed.

As his eyes slipped closed, Jack imagined a time when he loved the cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this is definitely an AU to the book series (that I never actually read in the first place, but know plenty about). So! What does this mean for our hero Jackson Overland? Once again left on his own in a life or death situation, with hope on the backburners.
> 
> Keep in mind this story is marked with "character death," after all.
> 
> Also man, I really loved Dervish. I think he was my favorite minor character in this entire thing. Sad to see him go, really.


	9. Chapter 9

“I’ve learned that home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling.”

_Cecelia Ahern, Love, Rosie_

\--

“Jack!”

A snowball smacked him right in the nose and, while the force of it wasn’t nearly enough to knock him off his feet, he still collapsed into a pile of snow behind him. One hand draped over his forehead and the other reaching for the light of the sun blocked by clouds, Jack moaned and groaned. “I’m done for! Man down!” His eyes slipped shut and both arms dropped to his sides. Footsteps crunched in the snow, slowing to a stop by his side.

A foot nudged him in the side, his puffy winter jacket blocking the feel of it. He peeked one eye open to see who it was and met with earthen brown eyes, a splash of autumn in the midst of winter. When he knew that the other had seen, Jack quickly shut his eyes again and tried not to smile as he whispered, “Stories say you have to kiss him to wake him up.”

There was a snort of incredulity above him. “Jack, I can see you breathing.” To which Jack immediately began holding his breath. “Oh come on, you can’t hold your breath forever. Then you’ll really die.” When Jack didn’t budge, he felt a shift in movement by his side and thought he was going to get what he wanted. There were others around, but he never cared if anyone knew. “Alright, I guess I’ll just have to get Olivia.” Then, louder, “Olivia!”

“Waitwaitwait.” Jack rose in time for a body-sized bullet to dive into his gut and wind him. He wheezed and just barely resisted shoving the girl off of him. Instead, he let her adjust herself on his lap as he got his breath back.

To his right, Jamie kneeled, hand covering his mouth to hide his laughter as Jack sent a glare his way. Before he could say anything or so much as move, Jamie whispered something in Olivia’s ear, too low for Jack to catch.

Olivia’s face brightened. “Oh, really?” She turned wide eyes on him, brown in a different way than Jamie’s were, light like copper. Her hair was just the same, just past shoulder-length, thick and messy like a pile of leaves. She was a splitting image of her mother, but so much unlike her brother. The only resemblance came in the form of the smile they shared, both shockingly sweet, even with a tint of wicked intent underneath. She feigned shock as she looked him over. “Is it true, Jack? Did you really die?”

He rolled his eyes. “Obviously I’m still-”

“Now Olivia,” Jamie interrupted, “you know the only way to wake a loved one from the grips of death, don’t you?”

“I do.” And she grinned—and she never looked so much like Jack. “A kiss to wake the damsel.” She planted one right on Jack’s nose, both hands on either side of his head.

When she pulled back, Jack laughed and gathered her in his arms before she could get away. “That wouldn’t wake a Prince! You have to give him a _real_  kiss.”

She gasped in horror as he pursed his lips and she pushed her hands against him to escape his grasp. When his lips met hers, he made sure to make it loud. Her hand flew and nearly caught him in the eye, so he let her escape before she could accidentally give him a black eye. She fell back on her butt in front of him, wiping her lips with the back of her hand with a look like she’d just been the victim of the worst crime. “That’s _gross_ , Jack!” Her cheeks flared red as she smacked the back of his head, but he and Jamie couldn’t stop laughing. When her plans to aggravate her brother didn’t work, she made a noise of frustration and got to her feet, stomping her foot in the snow. “This is why boys are dumb!”

He watched her storm off towards the house not too far away and quickly got to his feet. Reaching back down in the snow, he packed a snowball, perfectly shaped by years of practice, and aimed it for the back of her head.

The door to his home flew open and, to his misfortune, the snowball flew above its target and into the face of his unsuspecting mother.

All laughter ceased to exist, even from those playing nearby. There was a low chorus of ooo’s from around him as he tried ducking his head and blending in with the snow. “Jackson Abby Overland.” He feared the worst of his mother’s well-known wrath and wished his form could take the color of his hair so he could hide in the frost around him. He silently noted Jamie scooting slowly away from him in the corner of his eye and couldn’t help but consider him useless in the face of battle. He saw her leave the safety of their home to step out into the snow and flinched, shutting his eyes as if the harsh effects of her lecture would have less impact if he couldn’t see the flash of anger on her face.

When no words came, he risked opening his eyes to see what was taking so long. He opened them just in time for a snowball to smack him right between the eyes for the second time that afternoon. Once the snow fell from his face, he blinked up at his mother, bent over near the house and already forming another snowball.

“Wait! Wait!” He scrambled to his feet, but escape was cut short when another snowball nailed him in the shoulder. She reached for another and he ducked for cover behind a tree as it went flying past. He watched it hit the snow before kneeling to make a supply of ammo for himself.

With a smile crossing his lips, Jack moved from his cover, snowball in hand. Before he could throw it, another one smacked him in the temple from his right. In the time it took him to register his confusion and turn his head to identify his new attacker, another hit him in the chest from the front, and he stumbled back from the ambush, snowball falling from his hand. “That’s not fair! Two against one!”

His mother threw another and he ducked, scooping his hand through the snow as he did and tossing one back at her. It soared over her head and hit the house behind her. “Oh, Jack, honey, are you losing your touch? I remember you used to be so much better at this.” She tossed another and Jack ducked again.

A snowball from a different direction hit him in the shoulder and he turned to see Jamie grinning viciously at him from behind a small, make-shift fort he’d built with snow. Jack tossed one at him and it missed, hitting another kid playing swords with a friend. The boy turned and quickly joined in on the fight and soon enough Jack found himself behind a bush, stick in hand and three of the neighbor kids kneeled by his side as he marked out a strategy for attacking enemy lines, which consisted of Jamie, Monty, Claude, Olivia, and his _mother_  of all people.

During the battle, plans were made and discarded, very few carried through all the way, sticks clashed together, and there was just as much friendly fire as there was aimed at the enemy. Jack’s mother gave up halfway through, claiming she was much too old to keep up with the children before retreating back to her home for a warm drink by the fire.

The rest of the children played until sunset, when most of their parents called them home for dinner. In the end, only Jack and Jamie were left, with Olivia having returned home when she saw their father inside. In the light of the setting sun, Jack climbed one of his favorite trees and sat on a sturdy branch as Jamie sat at the trunk of it, too afraid and clumsy to bother trying the same. They watched the moon as they discussed simple things, like school and what their sisters were doing lately.

Jamie’s sister was younger than Olivia, but since Jack and Jamie were around each other so often, the girls got along with each other, too. Olivia seemed to enjoy pretending that Sophie was her own younger sibling that she could teach to read and write, among other things. Lots of people mistook her for one of the Bennett’s anyway, with her brown hair and eyes that resembled most of the Bennett family. It was hard to notice from a distance, but side by side, it was easy to point out the similarities between her and Jack, or them and their parents. Olivia took to looking more like her mother, while Jack closer resembled his father, and even moreso a grandfather he never met.

“Do you think about the future?” Jack asked as he stared out at the perfect blanket of snow before him. Winter was his favorite season for a plethora of reasons, from the fun of snowball fights to the serenity of simplicity. “Like, what you want to do with your life?”

Jamie tilted his head to look up at him. “I’m gonna be an astrologist.”

Jack barked a laugh. “What, you mean like someone who studies the meaning of the constellations and stuff?” That earned him a glare and he kicked some snow down on Jamie’s head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just so _you_ , all about that mythology and stuff. You’ve always been super into those things.” He liked the way Jamie declared that he was going to be an astrologist, too, as if there was no doubt in his mind that he was _going_  to achieve the goal he’d set in mind.

Relaxing, Jamie rolled his eyes. “So what about you?”

Jack thought for a moment, shrugged. “I’m not really sure.” He shifted uncomfortably and started to wonder why he’d brought it up in the first place. It’d been on his mind a lot lately and he thought talking about it with Jamie would make him feel better, but it just reminded him of the insecurity behind not having his whole life planned out. “My dad keeps trying to talk to me about it. He has all these _ideas_  I never asked for about what I could do, like be a mechanic like him, or a teacher, or—and I swear he said this—a _doctor_.”

“What’s wrong with being a doctor?”

Jack snorted. “I don’t know if you realized this or not, but I’m not exactly prime doctor material. I doubt I’m even teacher material.”

Jamie frowned and raised his gaze to look up at him again. Jack avoided looking down. He didn’t want to see that look of concerning disapproval on his face that matched his mother’s so well. “Jack, you’re not an idiot, you know? Give yourself some credit.” When he didn’t get an answer, he continued. “You could teach kids. You’re good with kids. All the kids around here love you, especially Sophie.”

“I don’t know, Jamie.” Jack blew out a breath, crossed his arms over his chest. He shifted his position so he was leaning against the tree, his legs hanging on either side of the branch. “It’s just…not that easy. Just because I might be good at something doesn’t mean I’ll enjoy it, and all I can really think of that I _really_  enjoy are snowball fights.” He huffed out a small laugh. “Maybe it’s just me. Everyone else seems to know what they want.”

“Who knows,” Jamie interjected, “maybe you just have to wait for some opportunity to come along.”

They were quiet after that, enjoying the peace and quiet of one another's company underneath the light fall of snow.

\--

"I can't go back!"

"Jack, please, you're not thinking clearly!"

It was a heavy winter. The snow fell hard, piled up to their knees. The wind that whipped Jack's hair every which way blew right through him, straight past his heavy jacket, his shirt, his skin, and stabbed needles of ice into the marrow of his bones. He shivered, hugged his arms closer, but it did little to fend off the unrelenting chill. Tears froze on his cheeks and dried his eyes, as if the storm were somehow apart of him, an extension of himself, thumbing the tears from his face and simultaneously raging at those who dared come near him.

Jamie, though not too far away, looked like a mere blur of color against the backdrop of relentless white. He was reaching out for Jack, but Jack would never let him come close enough to touch him. He was afraid of his frailty in that moment, of the ice in his skin, as if his entire being would shatter against Jamie's touch—against anyone's. Making himself move was hard, but letting Jamie come closer was even harder, so Jack stepped back and away.

"Jamie, stop! Leave me alone! I'm not going back." He had to yell to get his voice across the wind, but even then their words were barely carried over to one another.

"Jack, _please_." He could hear the sob in Jamie's tone and it tugged at his heartstrings. Jamie was wearing more than him, but still not enough. For a moment, Jamie looked around as if he'd lost sight of his friend, but quickly spotted him and started making his way towards him again. "If you come back, they'll forgive you, I promise. It's not your fault. Nobody blames you."

" _They_   do! I know they do! You," his voice faltered, wilted against the wind, "you didn't see them like I did."

Jamie dropped his hand and they stood across from one another as the wind continued to tear between them, an intangible line that threatened anyone who tried to cross over it.

In Jamie's silence, Jack felt compelled to continue. His voice felt hoarse already from yelling, but he needed to get his feelings across. "I thought she was dead, Jamie." He closed his eyes and took another step back, as if the memory of his sister's frozen body in his arms was a sword driving him back, further and further away from the only source of warmth for miles. He felt snow fall away under his boots, barely worn from their lack of use, but paid it no mind. "I wasn't helping her! I was just, just- I was making it worse! And mom and dad..."

Jamie remained where he stood. Jack didn't know if it was from the cold or the wind, or if he was finally giving up like he should've done a long way back. "Olivia's fine, Jack! She's alive and she's warm and safe and she wants you back!" Jack shook his head, wishing the wind could somehow pick him up and carry him far, far away from where he was then. "She's alive because of you! When she fell in the pond, you were the one who got her out of the ice before she drowned!"

"But, but I-" The cold froze his words and he swallowed the ice chipping down his throat. He felt like he'd never known warmth, chilled from the inside out. He'd been out in the storm for well over an hour, running far from the pond and the look on his parents' faces when they saw their little girl laying still and lifeless on the edge of the ice she'd fallen through. He'd tried to save her, tried to get to her in time, but the ice cracked and she dropped like a stone. She'd looked at him the moment before she fell and Jack couldn't get the look of fear in her eyes out of his head, the look of betrayal, like he'd failed as her brother, as her guardian.

He got her out without falling through himself and pulled her into his lap, but she was so still, so _cold_. "I didn't know what to do, Jamie." He felt fresh tears bubble up and fall away like frost, just more snowflakes in the wind. He didn't even know if Jamie could hear him anymore, didn't know if he was shouting out loud or whispering to himself. "I didn't know what to do." He recalled his shock like a freshly opened wound that stilled him when her chest no longer lifted, when her eyes didn't flutter open. He numbly remembered shouting all around him, to _do something do something_ , but he didn't know what to do, hadn't been taught, couldn't pull it from his memories, but there had to be something, there _had to be_ -

She'd been ripped away from him and he'd pulled her back, even as his father shouted at him desperately and his mother cried for him to let go. He held his dying, _dead, dead, dead_ , sister in his arms, as if doing so would somehow bring her back to him. The others knew it wouldn't, and she was torn from him a second time as his father performed CPR. His mother wailed and she didn't say it, but he knew what she meant when she looked in his eyes. _How could you, how could you, she's dead, and you killed her, and it's all your fault._

Olivia coughed herself back to life, spilling frozen water from her lungs onto her father's lap. He'd picked her up and their mother had followed, and Jack stood to join, because she wasn't _dead_ , he hadn't _killed_  her, she was breathing and alive and he-

He was stilled by a look from each parent, neither needing to say a word to keep him from following after. There was doubt. Doubt that he'd been a good enough brother, doubt that he'd been a good brother at all, doubt that they'd raised a son worthy of raising, just a singular, striking _doubt_  that'd stabbed straight at his core and chipped a piece of himself away so that it may never return again. A doubt in himself.

"Her last words would've been my name," he quavered, feeling more than anything that he was undeserving of such a thing.

Dark pooled at the edges of his vision, inviting him in to his sorrow. He realized, faintly, that Jamie was speaking, and only vaguely made an effort to tune back in.

"They're looking for you, too, Jack," Jamie assured, stepping forward once more. Jack thought he could see shapes forming around the body of his friend, nearing him. "Whatever they made you feel, they didn't mean it. They want you to come back home. I want you back, too. Please, you're going to freeze. It's not safe this far away."

A figure by Jamie's side pressed forward when he stopped, and Jack thought he could hear the voice of his mother calling out to him, but he shut it out, pushed it away. Even if it was her, he was undeserving. "I'm sorry," he called. "I'm sorry."

The hand that didn't belong to Jamie reached out and he stepped away from it. The snow below him broke free and Jack felt a moment of panic as the ground gave out underneath him, and a lingering sensation of peace as he fell. He wondered, as the hand reached for him still, if he was being given the fate he'd nearly given his sister, and he accepted that. If it had to be one or the other, he would gladly take her place.

And so, he fell.

\--

"Jack."

It was _dark_.

And it was _cold_.

And he was _scared_.

"He's waking up, add more water."

Jack groaned. His arms and legs tingled all the way to his fingers and toes. His face stung. He felt some semblance of warmth around him and light pooled against the back of his eyes. Voices muddled together around him, neither clear enough to make out. He reached for the one closest to him and a hand closed around his own.

He felt a moment of fuzzy clarity, a memory that was both too close and too far away. A face danced across his blurry vision, followed by a smile that his memories clung to like a lifeline. It was so big, and so bright, and it seemed to chase the darkness away. He didn't feel so scared anymore.

As his voice returned, he smiled. "Mom?"

The voices went silent and Jack began to panic as the precious illusion of his mother's smile broke away. He felt water fall over him and suddenly felt like he was drowning, like the ice around him had melted all too fast and he was falling through the pond like he'd seen his sister do. He flailed and gasped for the breath he hadn't lost and hands quickly grabbed at him, held him down, shouted meaningless words.

"He's hallucinating! Pull him from the water and dry him off."

Jack felt himself being raised against his own will, but his struggling faltered some. He felt as though he was being raised to safety, pulled from the cliff he'd fallen from and pulled back onto land. There were too many hands for his delusions and he slapped them away, but his arms were held down as something soft wrapped around him. In a numb, faraway sense, he felt those extra hands patting him down, drying his hair, and when they were done, his hands were released and he curled them around himself, shivering uncontrollably.

"Jack." A hand touched his shoulder and he wasn't sure whether to lean into the hallucination of his mother or flinch away from the lie. He did neither, willing himself to remain still, but continuing to shiver regardless. "Jack, it's alright, you're safe now. Everything is going to be alright. You are in shock. Do you understand?"

He shook his head and jumped when another hand touched him aside from the one on his shoulder. The hand removed the towel and he started to panic again until it was replaced with a blanket. He wrapped it securely around himself and held it close so nobody would be able to take it again.

"Leave us be. I'll take care of it from here."

"Sir, there are other matters-"

"That was an order."

Feet shuffled from the room and the sound of a door shutting made Jack focus on his environment. He blinked away the daze and realized for the first time that his eyes were blurred with tears. He wiped them away with the edge of his blanket and tried to force some clarity on the situation. Slowly, details became clear; a bathtub nearby still full with water, buckets scattered across the bronze metal floor, an empty chair, the chair he filled, and another occupant aside from himself. He raised his eyes and met with silver sparked with concern.

"Pitch," he breathed, reaching out as if he couldn't believe it with his eyes alone. His hand touched a solid cheek and the delusion didn't fade away, making him believe that this time, it might be real.

A hand covered his own. "Yes, Jack, it's me."

His emotions all boiled to the surface and Jack surged forward, wrapping his arms tightly around the neck of his General, of his lover. He didn't know why he wept, but he didn't try too hard to stop himself. Soothing hands rubbed circles on his back and Pitch remained silent until Jack managed to pull himself together.

It could've been minutes or hours when Jack pulled away, but when he did, he felt much better. He still shivered, but not as bad. He assumed it would be better once he had on a pair of clothes rather than just a blanket to cover him. He wiped his eyes, but they were nearly dry by the time he gathered himself. He held Pitch's hands in his own and only realized then, as he took him properly in, that the man was in uniform.

Blinking away his growing weariness, Jack frowned. "I, I don't understand. Why are you here?"

Pitch frowned and watched him closely. After a moment, he sighed, looking worse for wear. He had lines in his face and bags under his eyes that made Jack realize that he probably hadn't slept in days, which made him wonder how much time had passed. "You've been unconscious for four days."

Jack's eyes widened and he felt a stone sink to the pit of his stomach. " _Four days_? I- I don't- I don't remember what-" He shook his head, taking back one of his hands to press it against his throbbing head. Four days never seemed like such a long time until it was lost. "Wait, I-" His heart picked up pace, racing against his ribs as his memory tried to piece itself back together bit-by-bit.

When he remembered the shadows, he rose so quickly from his chair that it fell back with a _crack_  and his head spun. He didn't realize he was hyperventilating until Pitch shook him lightly, grabbed his chin and pulled him back to his eyes. "Jack, calm down. You need to calm down. You just woke up."

Strong hands pushed him back into his chair and Jack started shivering again. "What happened?" He felt breathless and cold and it hurt to reach for memories that weren't yet ready to come.

"The shadows swarmed the _Nova_. It was a concisely put together plan of attack, starting from when they snuck in and shut down the generators three months ago. From the information I've gathered, they _knew_  about the recon mission, and were leading us onto them the entire time. They wanted us to track them down everywhere they went, wanted to lead me away from the ship, and I followed like a fool." Pitch sighed and rubbed at his temples, slumping against his chair. Jack wasn't sure if his lack of professionalism was because of his exhaustion or because he felt like he could be more of himself around Jack.

Pitch dropped his hands and reached for Jack's again. He cast his gaze down towards them. "In my absence, they attacked, and although there were less of them, there were less of us as well, and we were caught by surprise, so they had the upper hand. Many were injured, but those suffering from nightmares seem to be faring well. They aren't as long-term effective as the poison, and not many were infected with that." Again, he sighed, and Jack wanted to hand him a cup of tea and usher him off to bed.

"So," Jack started, trying to scrape together the pieces of memory that he could, "you found out about the attack and returned?"

Pitch nodded, but grew silent. He seemed contemplative and Jack had so many more questions to ask, but he didn't want to push, so he rubbed his thumb over Pitch's hand, much warmer in comparison to his own, and waited patiently for a response.

Finally, Pitch went on, looking downtrodden and full of dragging despair. "I was contacted during the attack. The communicators remain with the reserved power in the case of an emergency. My team never even made it to our designated location and I had us turn back as soon as I heard of the situation. Unfortunately, it took us nearly two days to return, and by the time we did, the situation had long been neutralized." He cast his gaze up to Jack's once more and the briefest of smiles fought past his weary expression. "Thanks to you."

"Thanks to me?" Jack shook his head. "What do you mean?"

At Jack's confusion, Pitch made an attempt to calm him. "There's no need to worry. The medics have informed me that you may experience some lapse in memory from the severity of the event, but I've been assured that it should return shortly. Rest will do wonders with that."

There was a pause before Pitch continued. "I don't actually know all of the details, but from what information I've been able to gather, it has come to my attention that you, Jack, are the one who saved the ship, and my crew, from the fate the shadows would have imposed otherwise." When Jack opened his mouth to ask the questions pushing their way to the surface, Pitch shushed him. He reached a hand up and ran it through his hair, looking at him as though he was an object of wonder. "You activated the fail-safe. The room of the conning tower was created to regulate the temperature throughout the ship without the constant use of the envirotech in our uniforms. However, in the event of a hostile takeover, it was meant to be used as a fail-safe. Ultimately, the pipes would burst and in a matter of days, the airship would freeze over, and those inside would no longer be able to withstand the temperatures and be forced to leave. In that event, we would be able to reclaim the _Nova_  and fix the pipes.

"When made, the shadows were not an issue, so their ability to survive in freezing temperatures was not taken into account. However, they aren't as they once were. They've become more solid, taken on the form of sand, and it seems as though you, against all odds, were able to lead them to the room and use this new weakness against them."

Jack let out a breath, eyes wide as he looked down at his own hands. He closed them in a fist and opened them again, still trying to get feeling back in them past the uncomfortable tingling sensation. Bits and pieces came back faster with the explanation given to him. He remembered using the doll to lead the shadows to him, the pipe freezing the mass of Fearlings into a solid statue of ice, the dusting of frost and sand, being unable to leave the cold, cold room. "How- How am I alive?"

Pitch chuckled softly. "When the enemy rushed to the quarter deck all at once, the others took notice and followed after. The door to the conning tower was not only locked, but frozen shut, but they managed to budge it open and found you lying nearby, unconscious and suffering from hypothermia. With the shadows out of the way, the rest of the crew were able to pull themselves together and tend to the wounded. You were first priority."

"That'd explain why I still feel like I'm thawing out." He laughed under his breath, still trying to comprehend everything that happened. It all went so fast, and then he was waking up four days later. "Why aren't we freezing now if the pipes burst?"

"Since my return, they've been in repair. Our mechanics work fast."

"And the others? How's the crew holding up?"

"Are you always this considerate of others over your own?" Pitch inquired, but he smiled when Jack just gave a shrug in answer. "As I said, they're holding up. There were few injuries and even fewer poisonings. Everyone's being tended to and the generators have been up and running since early yesterday. The death count...," he glanced away, gaze glossing over with a deep-rooted loss that Jack, in a way, thought he might be able to understand, "is thankfully low," he finished.

And then it hit him. Jack paled, gasped, felt his thawing blood run cold all over again. "Captain Dervish..."

Pitch turned that long lost look towards him and gave a solemn nod. "My only regret is that I didn't get to say goodbye. His body was found in the conning tower after your own. Corporal Bennett filled me in on the details."

"Pitch, I-" Jack hesitated, shook his head, closed his mouth. What could he say? That he was sorry? That he wished he'd been just a little bit faster? That he wanted to turn back time and keep it from happening altogether? They were soldiers fighting a war. These things happened. They would all know loss in one way or another. But Captain Dervish had been a close friend and ally of Pitch's for many, many years, longer than Jack even knew. Losing him must be like losing Jamie, and Jack wasn't sure what he would do if he ever lost his best friend after everything else in his life.

He reached for Pitch's hands once again, squeezing them in his own. "He said your name before he passed." Pitch looked up at him, silver eyes shimmery with unshed tears. Jack wondered if he'd cried when he'd found out his friend had passed. "He said he was glad he could be by your side; Commander Irra's too."

Pitch's smile was heavy, but not without sincerity. "Thank you, Jack."

Jack nodded. Death did not make the decision of who deserved to live or who deserved to die. Death just did its duty. And in war, its presence was a blanket over them all, heavy and full of dusty memories. "If it wasn't for him, I never would've figured out the fail-safe. He was trying to get there on his own and he was so close to making it. I wish I could've-"

"Don't wish," Pitch chided. "He did what he felt was necessary. It's neither your fault or mine that he is no longer with us. It's our duty to celebrate the positive. You're alive and the Golden Army is not in shambles. From the attack, we've gathered a lot more information than we would've had otherwise; information we can use against them."

They shared a smile and Pitch traced Jack's cheek with the backs of his fingers. "At the very least, I am glad to see that you are safe. You had me quite worried when you didn't wake up for so long."

The idea that someone could care so much had Jack's heart fluttery in only the way Pitch could do. His blood continued to thaw, his limbs warming from the inside. "It's not like you to worry so much," he teased.

Pitch sent him a wry smile, cupping his cheek. "I've never really had much of a reason to care before."

They shared a quiet laugh, the presence of each other soothing the sorrow in their hearts. They shared a pain that only war could incite, that only loss could inflict.

Not for the first time, Jack thought that he would like to kiss him.

And so, he did.

Jack met Pitch's lips with his own, light, but lovely. His hands wrapped themselves around the General's shoulders, unsure as there was no immediate response. He had his eyes closed when he initiated the kiss and began opening them to see what was wrong, but before he could start to pull away, Pitch's fingers curled in his hair and drew him closer. He stopped shivering against the cold inside of him, feeling as though the very kiss itself was enough to thaw him the rest of the way through. His heart raced as he leaned into the kiss, and Jack thought that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

When the kiss ended, the two stayed close. A smile played on Jack's lips and he was surprised when Pitch matched it with one of his own, all the warmth of his being melding against the cold of Jack's own.

Jack opened his mouth to say something, but the door opened beside them and a soldier stepped inside. He and Pitch drew slowly apart. Jack started to pull his hands away, wary of being caught, but to his surprise, Pitch kept his hand in his own.

The General narrowed his eyes at the interruption. "I believe I was told to be left alone. What is it?"

In uniform, Jack could tell the soldier was an Officer, but he couldn't recall a name. The Officer cleared his throat, stood at attention. "Master Chief Petty Officer Bindi reports as ordered, sir. I was asked to retrieve you. There's a...situation with one of the infected. He's attacked the medic and turned on the soldier overlooking his recovery."

Pitch frowned. "Is it the same one we had problems with before?"

"Petty Officer Luke Cas, yes sir."

Jack raised his head, frowning. He wasn't sure if he was glad that Cas turned out alright in the end or the not. A resentful part of him was glad to hear he was still having issues with the nightmares poisoning him.

Beside him, Pitch sighed. "This sort of thing is best dealt with by letting time pass, but if it's really so much an issue, I'll see what I can do about it." Another sigh, and Jack wondered how much sleep he'd been getting. Probably not much with so many things to tend to. "I've spent enough time away from my duties as it is, so it's probably best that I take care of things now."

He rose to his feet and looked down as Jack squeezed his hand, smile returning, but only a ghost of what it once was a few minutes prior. "Will you be alright if I leave?"

Jack wanted to tell him no, wanted to keep him there with him for as long as he could, but he knew that would be selfish of him when there were so many things that needed tending to. The fact that Pitch spared any time at all for him was a blessing and Jack wasn't about to push his luck, so he nodded his head and gave him a reassuring smile. "I'll be fine. Don't worry about me. I'm tougher than I look."

"So I've discovered," Pitch replied. "Your schedule has been cleared in light of your recovery. If you still feel too cold, return to the bath, otherwise return to your cabin and get some rest. A uniform has been set out for you."

"You get some rest, too," Jack urged. "Please? When you get the chance?"

Pitch looked like he wanted to argue, but he decided better of it and conceded. "When I get the chance." They shared a smile that the Officer in the room glanced away from, looking as though he was trying to appear as disinterested in them as possible.

Pitch turned away and left the room. Officer Bindi moved to follow, paused at the door, glanced over his shoulder, smiled. "It's Overland, right?" Jack nodded, shifting to make sure the blanket covered him properly. "The whole crew knows what you did. Thanks."

Jack gawked at him. Never once in his years as a soldier did he expect an older Officer, or anyone for that matter, act as though they truly appreciated him. Before he could even put together a proper response—because how do you even reply to that?—the Officer was gone, and Jack was left once again on his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man I was so worried you guys actually thought I killed Jack off. No way! There's much more story to go! I'm not actually sure how long this fic will be since I'm still writing it, but there's plenty more ahead of us. Besides, "major character death" could mean anything, really.
> 
> I figured Jamie wanting to be an astrologist is kind of like a sci-fi equivalent of a cryptozoologist, which is something I've always seen him being into (especially in the unofficial rotg comics).
> 
> A lot of movie references in this one! I chose the name Olivia for Jack's sister because the person who voices her also voiced Pippa, and the voice actor is named Olivia Mattingly. Anyway! I hope you guys enjoyed this sweet relief from the turmoil I put you all (and Jack) through!


	10. Chapter 10

“We are, as a species, addicted to story. Even when the body goes to sleep, the mind stays up all night, telling itself stories.”

— _Jonathan Gottschall, The Storytelling Animal: How Stories Make Us Human_

\--

Jack couldn’t allow himself to rest. After he got dressed in the clothes left for him—casual wear, rather than the uniform he’d been expecting—he wandered slowly through sickbay. There were only a few others in the corridor with him, mostly medics moving from one room to the next as they tended to their patients. For the most part, nobody seemed exceptionally dreary, and the medics didn’t move with much urgency. Nobody had blood splattered clothing, which was a commodity of past battles, and a relief to see the absence of.

There wasn’t any screaming or signs of Cas, which made Jack wonder if he wasn’t even being kept in the sickbay at all. The situation concerning Cas wasn’t one Jack wanted to think about, but he knew he would have to deal with it sooner than later. Cas was a menace when he was in his right mind; he was an absolute terror when he wasn’t. Jack had paid witness to that firsthand, and he would much rather avoid the wrath of a revenge-thirsty nutcase. For the time being, he decided it shouldn’t be an issue so long as Cas was being watched over. Pitch had enough to deal with. He didn’t need to work himself up over a soldier breaking ranks to attack a member of their own crew.

A heavy feeling settled in the air as Jack made his way down. It was odd seeing the corridors so empty. At some point, just to make sure he wasn’t actually alone, he checked in on the center observation deck. Those on duty were in uniform, and past them, on the surveillance screens, the shields were back up. They were obviously on high alert. While they’d encountered and even battled with the shadows multiple times in the past, the _Nova_  had never been attacked. It was alarming to consider how easily they could’ve succumbed to disaster if it wasn’t for the fail-safe, and even that had only been activated by luck. The possibility of it happening again was now a very real, very concerning threat. Nobody looked like they’d been getting much sleep.

Whenever someone saw Jack, they’d smile and ask him how he was doing. They were all too friendly, too considerate, too much unlike how they treated him before. He wasn’t used to people showing concern for his well-being, or even having others pat him on the back like they were congratulating him on a job well done. He tried to smile and brush them off like it wasn’t a big deal, but after a short time, it just felt exhausting to be around others who, before then, never seemed to care, and now seemed to care too much.

He didn’t like the extra attention. He didn’t like the praise of his name whenever he entered a room. He didn’t feel like he’d done anything to deserve it. His success was a stroke of luck, an act of stupidity covered by chance. He hadn’t even been entirely sure it would work when he went for it. As far as he knew, there was over a fifty-fifty chance that he could’ve ended up being tormented by shadows and left to freeze while they took over the ship and ran out the survivors. Pitch could’ve returned to an empty vessel. The Golden Army would be no more.

It all happened so fast.

Even still, he didn’t feel like he’d won. The shadows were still out there, still dangerous, more unpredictable than they’d ever been before. People were constantly on edge, ready for an attack that Jack doubted would come again anytime soon. The war wasn’t over just because he’d frozen a small portion of them. The danger was still very real and very much out there, and it could sweep them off their feet at any time. Jack hadn’t done anything at all to prevent that, to make things safe, to put others at ease. He didn’t deserve the praise being given to him.

Feeling restless, Jack couldn’t bring himself to return to his cabin right away. There were too many things on his mind. He felt fine. His limbs had warmed up from walking around. His hands still felt still and he doubted he could move very fast if he needed to, but he’d slept for four days and he didn’t want to waste any more time. He wanted to get together with Pitch and be a direct part of the solution. He couldn’t stand the idea of just being another soldier after all he’d gone through. Now that he’d stepped up and proven himself, maybe the General would allow him to take part in meetings, give his own ideas and learn from others’. He was tired of being in the dark all the time.

Jamie was the first person on his mind when he decided not to rest. He was stopped short of the floor with Jamie’s cabin when Millie saw him by the stairs. He wasn’t sure why he should care, but he was relieved to see that she was alright. She stopped him to talk for a few minutes, but she looked like she was in a rush.

“I heard what you did,” she said, smiling at him. “Gotta say Overland, I didn’t think you had it in you. I’m glad to see you awake. Lots of us were worried.”

Jack shifted uneasily. “Yeah, so I’ve heard.” He sighed and ran a hand through the messy white locks hair. “I didn’t do that to get the praise. I could live without it, honestly. I barely did anything.”

“Are you kidding me? You saved our asses, that’s what you did.” She rubbed her arm and looked off to the side. He could see the dark smudges under her eyes, matching plenty others that he’d seen along the way. She wasn’t in uniform like the others, instead wearing the same casual garb Jack wore, her ebony hair up in a low pony tail. “I know it doesn’t seem like much to you, but what you did means a lot for the crew. I know a lot of soggy ass men on this ship that wouldn’t risk their shit like that. We would’ve been sunk without you.”

He gave her a look, laughing like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing—and he kind of couldn’t. “Are you thanking me?”

Millie gave a halfhearted shrug in response. “I haven’t been the best to you in the past. I’m just saying, I think you deserve a change in pace. Besides,” her gaze shifted, “I doubt Cas will be much of a problem for a while.”

“Did you see him?” Again, Jack pushed away the thought of telling someone about what happened. Millie already knew Cas attacked him. She’d been a part of it. He doubted she knew anything about what happened after that. He still wasn’t sure whether to blame that entirely on Cas or the nightmares he’d been poisoned with at the time, but he’d seemed pretty conscious when he’d left Jack for dead. “I heard he’s not doing so well.”

She shook her head. “He’s not, but he’s getting better. Being poisoned is a tough thing to deal with. You never really get over it.” She shuddered and shook her head. “When they poison you, a piece of their being goes into you, gets inside your head, infects your way of thinking and feeling. It’s not like the nightmares. They don’t go away when you wake up.”

He tried to imagine what that had to be like, but he doubted anything he could consider would be able to touch the immensity of being poisoned. Being infected by a Fearling in that way was personal. They could find a person’s deepest, darkest fears and bring them to surface. The worst Jack had ever experienced was what their nightmares could do and those alone were terrifying. He didn’t want to envision what it would be like to live it with his eyes wide open, wondering if this world was the real world, or if his loved ones were trying to help or trying to kill. Even despite all that Cas had done, even a tyrant like him didn’t deserve a punishment like that.

Before he could say any more, Millie spoke again, shifting towards the stairs. “I have someone I need to see. Haven’t seen her enough since she got back.” A smile played on her lips and Jack wondered who she meant. “Anyway, if you’re looking for the General, he’s with Cas in his cabin. Otherwise, I’m out.”

When she left, Jack looked down the corridor and considered seeing how Pitch was doing, but knew it would be better to leave him alone, especially if he was dealing with calming Cas down. He wondered why Millie would bother looking over him, but he supposed if it wasn’t her, it wouldn’t be anybody else. He doubted D’gell would care enough. There was always the suspicion of Cas and Millie having a relationship, so he supposed it wasn’t all that strange for her to volunteer overseeing his recovery.

He'd barely made it to the next level before someone ran into him and nearly knocked him off his feet. A brush of brown under his nose was enough of a confirmation and Jack laughed with what little breath he could gather, patting his friend on the shoulder. "Jamie, can't breathe buddy."

Jamie pulled away as quickly as he came and he smiled at Jack like he was the last star in the sky. "You were out for _days_! I thought- You didn't wake up right away, and you were so _cold_ , and so blue, god you were so-" He paused long enough to gather his bearings, his expression of joy blending into one of outrage. Jack saw the swipe coming and ducked away from it, back down the corridor out of the reach of one angry brunet. "Overland! I told you not to do it on your own and you did it anyway! You, you _knocked me out_!"

Jack put his hands up defensively, looking around as a few people poked their heads out of their cabins to see what the noise was about. He tried to give Jamie his award-winning smile, but the look on the Corporal's face told him all he saw was a genuine shit-eating grin. "Jamie, Jamie, relax. Look, I did what I needed to do. It all worked out, didn't it? What's the problem?"

"'What's the problem'? You're out for _four_  days, you're practically _dead_  for _four_  days, and you ask me 'what's the problem'?" Jamie groaned and breathed out heavily through his nose, pausing to pinch the bridge of it. He closed his eyes, groaning against what Jack assumed was a pretty bad migraine.

After taking a moment to compose himself, Jamie dropped his arms and sighed, looking just as tired as everyone else. The look he wore made Jack put down his defenses, his smile slipping away as he reached out to make sure he was doing alright. Before he could get close, Jamie punched him right in the arm, hard enough for him to feel it tingle all the way from his wrist to his shoulder. Jack hissed and rubbed the area, pouting as stepped away again. "Alright, okay. I deserved that. You get one of those."

Jamie raised his hand, balled it in a fist, and Jack flinched away, thinking he might try again anyway, but Jamie sighed, dropped his arm, and went back to looking exhausted. "You really scared me. Aren't you the one who's always going on about us being a team? What happened to that when you knocked me out and dealt with the shadows by yourself? You would've died if they didn't find you in time. One wrong move and you'd be in a walking nightmare. I can't believe-"

"Stop." Jack held a hand over his mouth and pulled it away when it earned him a glare. He felt a little guilty for going against Jamie's wishes and making him worry, but he didn't get why it was such a big deal when he was still standing there, still very much alive. Everything didn't work out perfectly, but it worked out, and that was all they should care about. "I get it, okay? I messed up. I know I made you worry. I'm sorry, but I'm really not in the mood for one of your lectures right now."

Jamie opened his mouth, considered going on, sighed, and closed it. He straightened his posture and ran his fingers through his hair, looking off towards the wall. He had a faraway look in his eyes, a reflection of something that Jack thought he might be able to place. It scared him, seeing Jamie look that way. "I thought I'd lost you."

It was Jack's turn to go silent. He snapped his mouth shut and rubbed his arm, realizing just how much he _really_  deserved that. Jamie was probably holding back for his sake. He'd taken Jamie out of the equation when he wanted to go through with his plan because he didn't think he could handle the idea of putting his friend in danger like that. He couldn't imagine losing Jamie after having already lost so many others. It was hard to realize that maybe Jamie felt the same way about him.

The guilt fell heavy on his shoulders and he suddenly felt bad for snapping at him at all. Jamie probably woke up some time later, dazed and confused with the last thing he remembered being Jack talking about some dangerous plan. Jack would've been nowhere near him. He would've panicked. And nobody knew him well enough to calm him down. He had to deal with it all on his own and it was all Jack's fault.

And still, Jamie was the first to apologize. "I'm sorry," he uttered. "You saved us and I'm scolding you."

Jack shook his head, reaching out for him again. This time, Jamie let him, and Jack squeezed his shoulder. "No, I'm sorry. If I was in your shoes, I would've done the same thing. I would've done a lot worse than punch you in the arm." He smiled and tilted his head to get the other's attention. Jamie made an effort to look away, but after a moment of Jack popping up in every direction he looked, he gave in and returned the smile, although it was a lot more rueful. "There it is."

With another sigh, Jamie rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "Have you eaten? It's nearly time for dinner."

"I'm not hungry," he yawned, trying to ignore the looks people sent them as they passed. "I was kind of thinking of making it an early day, actually. Everyone's been a little...too much."

Jamie gave him an understanding nod and offered to walk him back to his cabin. "You know, there's something else that's been bothering me."

"Oh yeah?" Jack yawned a second time, not bothering to keep up appearances. The occasional soldier would pass them by and pat him on the back, but he made it clear every time that he wasn't in the mood for a conversation and they seemed to get the idea. "What's that?"

"The night when the shadows came aboard, you promised to meet me in the saloon for a game of cards, but you never showed up," he said, frowning as he thought back to it. "Before curfew, I went down to your cabin to see what happened, but you weren't in there. The next thing I know, I'm saving you from a Fearling. There wasn't time to ask then, but what happened to you? Where'd you go?"

Jack bit his tongue, wondering if he should tell the truth. Jamie would definitely go to a higher authority if he found out what Cas did, but Cas wasn't in any shape to be discharged just yet, and he'd already worked Jamie up once that day. He recalled Millie telling him that Cas stuffed him in his own closet and felt the anger about that night boil inside. There was no excusing his actions. Cas had been completely in his right mind when he attacked Jack the first time. If he ever recovered from the poison, he would need to be dealt with appropriately, but it just wasn't the right time.

"I-"

"You're lying."

Jack stared at Jamie in disbelief, stopping outside his cabin. Jamie leveled his gaze, a frown the most prominent feature on his face. "I, I didn't even say anything yet! There's no way you could know that."

Jamie raised a brow and rolled his eyes for the second time. "I've known you- how long, Overland? I might've missed the signs last time because of the situation, but there's nothing distracting me now and I can clearly tell you're about to try lying to me. I'm too tired. I don't want to hear a lie." Before Jack could respond, he continued. "If you don't want to tell me, that's fine. Just don't lie to my face."

Jack smiled despite himself. Of all the people to spend most of his life with, he was glad it was Jamie. He raked his fingers through his hair and bit his lip. "Alright, I'll tell you."

He motioned for Jamie to follow him inside his cabin. When he reached his bed, the exhaustion of the day hit him and he almost asked Jamie to leave to tell him another time, but he didn't want to lead him on like that, so he didn't. He realized it was the first time he'd been in his cabin since Cas's blanket party and scanned the room to make sure nothing was missing or out of place. He didn't have many personal belongings, but what little he had was precious. Nothing seemed out of place, but he would inspect more later when he'd had his rest and Jamie wasn't around.

Jamie took a seat beside him, his weight pushing the mattress down. To avoid sliding into him, Jack leaned back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. The lighting was as dim as always, leaving shadows in the corners of his room. They didn't flicker, didn't move, didn't carry that unnatural thick void that the true shadows did, but still a nagging paranoia pulled at the back of his mind. He was sure he wasn't the only one. The shields were back up, the General was back on board, plans were being made for a counterattack, but there was still the uneasiness that came from having their space invaded. They knew the _Nova_  wasn't the safest place in the world. They'd fought from outside the airship before. But they'd never been boarded, never been caught off-guard in such a way. Everyone would be on their toes for a while.

He felt eyes on him when he didn't talk for a while and Jack avoided the gaze. He'd almost forgotten himself, almost lost himself in a froze-over cavern surrounded by the sandy debris of shadows, left to die alone. He blinked back to reality and reminded himself that that was over now, that he was alive and warm and with Jamie in the safety of his cabin.

"Jack?" Jamie peered down at him and even from the corner of his eye, Jack could see the look of concern cross his expression.

If only to avoid talking about his feelings, he spoke of Cas. "You ever hear of a blanket party?"

He saw Jamie frown, his expression changing to one on the verge of understanding, but still desiring clarification. "Yeah. The Captain told us about them, how they were common in older armies, but outlawed when Pitch became General and made the Golden Army." He squinted his amber eyes. "Why? Did someone-"

"Cas." Jack turned his head and found it hard not to smile at the fury that overcame his friend's face. Before Jamie could do what Jack knew he would, he placed a hand on his knee to let him know he wasn't finished. The energy behind Jamie's sudden rage lied just beneath the surface, but he quelled. "You called that one. He was _not_  happy about the garbage thing, or anything before that. I got his rank dropped twice in two years."

Jamie shook his head, a fire behind his eyes. "He got his _own_  rank dropped." He looked like he was ready to leap to his feet and tear Cas a new one, but he took in a few calming breaths instead, forced himself to relax. After a moment, his shoulders dropped and he seemed calmer, if just barely. He still looked irritated, but not like he was about to start a fight. "So he attacked you? And then what?"

"It was in here, so nobody saw anything. He snuck up on me and, details, details, I woke up in a cell in the brig."

"In the _brig_? How'd you get out?"

He wondered how much truth he wanted to spill. As it was, Jamie was only angry at Cas. He didn't give a shit if Jamie was mad at D'gell too, but despite Millie's involvement, she'd lightened up since then. He still didn't trust her, not entirely, and he didn't exactly plan on being buddy-buddy with her, especially since she was still involved with Cas, but he didn't want any marks on her name. "Cas told Millie about it and after the shadows came aboard, she went down to that level to get some weapons stowed away in the cargo bay and let me out while she was down there." He shrugged. "She told me what was going on and we went from there. Skip to about an hour later and cue you saving my ass from being Fearling meat."

"I don't like this," Jamie muttered. "The punishment for openly attacking another soldier is more than just getting your rank stripped. He would be discharged. Have you told the General about this?"

Jack shook his head, pushing himself up on his elbows. "You're the first." He grabbed Jamie's arm to get his attention and smiled at the look on his face. Jamie was never very good at hiding his emotions. He could read him like a book. "Jamie, everybody's on edge already, especially General Pitchiner. I promise I'll bring it up when everything calms down, but right now, Cas isn't a problem. He's on quarantine from the poison."

"Serves him right," Jamie huffed.

Jack laughed. "Dark. I didn't know you had that mean bone in you."

That earned him a roll of the eyes. "I'm just sick of hearing about him. But you're right, now probably isn't the right time to bring it up. He's being punished already, so I won't pay him a visit." Jack laughed again at the image of Jamie going all tough guy over him. The tough guy look definitely didn't suit him. "Get some sleep, Overland." _Back to that._  "I'll come see you in the morning for breakfast to make sure you eat. I'm glad you're okay."

Nodding, Jack sat up as Jamie got to his feet. He took a moment to take in his friend's features, from the browns in his eyes, to the way his hair fell neatly to each side, to the dimples in his smile. He tried to think about what it would've been like if Jamie hadn't made it, if he'd woken up and Jamie hadn't been on board, if someone told him the shadows got him. It just might've broke him.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm glad you're okay too."

Jamie smiled. "Goodnight, Jack."

"Goodnight, Jamie."

\--

As promised, Jamie came for Jack the next day, waking him up and waiting for him to get dressed and ready for breakfast. Jack noted that his limbs still felt stiff, like they hadn't been used in a while, but the chill that clung to his bones had let go and he didn't feel so cold anymore. He and Jamie chatted a bit on their way to the mess hall and they ran into less people on the way, most of which left him alone.

There were less people in the mess hall than he was used to seeing and it dragged his mood back down. Once he and Jamie found a table, Jack took a look around and noticed most people were in uniform. Only a few were wearing the same casual garb he wore. It was protocol to wear uniforms after an attack or a battle, especially in the event of being in high alert. The only ones not permitted to wear the uniform were those who were recovering and Jamie refused to let him put his on that morning despite Jack's arguments that he felt fine. Besides, if there was another attack, it wouldn't matter if he was fully recovered or not. He would fight.

The mess hall was usually filled with the friendly chatter of soldiers happy to be on break, people laughing, making jokes, generally having a good time, but it was nearly void of sound that morning. People ate in silence, making the occasional remark. Jack could even hear the dishes being taken care of by those doing KP duty, the clatter of silverware being run through the washer and trays being dipped in the sinks. There was not a single smile on any face and, as Jack looked up from his food, he realized even Jamie looked positively dreary.

Jack frowned and placed his fork down. Jamie looked up at him curiously, silently asking what was bothering him. "I can't handle this." When Jamie only tilted his head and gave him a look like he was being overdramatic again, he sighed and motioned to the uncomfortably silent room. "Everyone's so... _down_. It's depressing. Even you look like the Fearlings killed your favorite solar cat."

Jamie looked disheartened by merely the thought of even just one hair on a beautiful, fiery-maned solar cat's head being harmed by a Fearling. "Well, you know, we did kind of just get _attacked_. Not only that, but it was an ambush, we were tricked, and all right under our noses. Some people are still getting over the losses of the Privates from the last recon mission, not to mention all those injured from the attack. It's natural to be this way." He shrugged and moved his peas away from the carrots on his tray. "Not everyone can be freakishly optimistic."

The hint that Jamie was referring to Jack was not in the least subtle, and Jack feigned offense. "I'll admit I'm not shitting rainbows all the time, but at least I'm not letting my rain cloud loose on the world." He rolled his eyes and took another look around at all the sour looking faces in the room. Some glanced over at them during their conversation, but most seemed uninterested.

He could admit that he felt unsettled, too. What if another Fearling had stowed itself away in the generators again? He was sure the mechanics who fixed them would've noticed if there were any shadows lurking about, but at this point, Jack was afraid that anything might be possible. What would they do if they were ambushed again, right at that moment? With all of those still recovering from their injuries, those quarantined from the poison, and those dragging their feet from loss and trauma, could they really withstand another direct attack like that? It was a miracle that Jack was able to do anything about it before. He doubted something like that would work a second time. Even with the General back on board, they were in no shape for a battle. They needed their fighting spirits back.

But what could he do? Some of them treated him with more respect than they ever had in his years on the _Nova_ , but what was that supposed to mean? He wasn't the Captain, or the General, or even an Officer. He was just another low-ranking soldier trying to survive. It wasn't his job to save their lives or raise their spirits when he could barely raise his own.

He and Jamie spent the rest of breakfast in the same silence as everyone else in the room. When they finished, he planned to go back to his room to get some more rest while Jamie went to take care of his duties. Before they parted, Jack paused. "Cards in the saloon tonight?" He might not be able to do anything for the others, but he could at least make an effort for his friend. He grinned. "Promise I'll show up this time."

Jamie smiled. "I'll hold you to it."

\--

Just as promised, Jack showed up in the saloon right after dinner. He spent most of the afternoon resting. Afterwards, he tried looking around for Pitch, but whenever he asked around, he was always somewhere else than he was when Jack searched for him. He was too busy running around the airship dealing with all sorts of things, probably over-exhausting himself to the point of it being unhealthy. After a while, Jack decided it would probably be best to leave him alone for the rest of the day and try finding him the next morning before he could start overworking himself again. He didn't doubt that Pitch could handle himself as the General, but Jack worried for him anyway.

There were a few others already there and Jack greeted them when he came in, finding a table to sit at and pulling up a chair. The room was about the same size as the muster station, large and round, with the same bronze-colored metal making up the walls and floor. It was on the same level as the mess hall, so the smell of food came through from down the hall and filled the dimly lit room. There were a few tables set up for soldiers to play cards or other games whenever they were off duty and had nothing better to do. The tables and chairs were always put away before they left since none of them were connected to the ground. It was still a safety issue, but it was overlooked.

The saloon was a place for soldiers to go to talk with their friends, play some card games, gossip about the rest of the crew. Jack went in there often to play cards with Jamie or Grant or just to screw around with some of the others to cure his boredom. It had a more relaxed air than many other places on the airship. Lower-ranking soldiers were permitted to speak easily with higher-ranking Officers. The Captain used to go down there a lot when he wasn't busy and many people would gather around to hear the tales he'd spin about his past adventures. Sometimes he even talked about the time he spent with Pitch and Irra, but Jack knew he cut back on some of the details when he did. Pitch may have been Dervish's long time friend, but he was still the General, and he knew better than to divulge less professional details with the crew. Still, he never bored his audience, and Jack enjoyed the stories he told whenever he sat in on them.

Remembering the Captain made his chest hurt in sorrow. Whenever he thought about him, about the way he died, it was like a stone had sunk its way deep inside Jack's stomach. It wasn't fair. Dervish was a good man, a great soldier, and he didn't deserve the fate he suffered. Now his name was just one of the many on the growing list of fatalities at the hands of the shadows. He would never live to tell another story again. If he was married or had kids, he would never see either one of them again. And if he didn't, he would never have the chance to. It wasn't _fair_.

When Jamie came in, Jack waved him over and the Corporal pulled up a seat. He was trying to hide it, but Jack could see the look of relief on his face. He probably half expected him to not show up like last time, and now that he knew the reason, Jack didn't doubt that he would've torn the airship apart looking for him. It was endearing, in an uncomfortably over-protective kind of way.

Jamie watched as Jack shuffled the cards. "What're we playing?"

"Rummy."

The Corporal groaned and Jack didn't bother looking up at him, stubbornly counting out the cards. "We _always_  play rummy and I _always_  lose."

Jack grinned and slid ten cards over the table. "It's not my fault you suck."

"You _cheat_." Jamie snatched the cards up with a glare and looked them over as Jack checked his own. After a moment, he sighed dramatically. "What are we playing by?"

"Multiple melds, aces low; play up to a hundred. I'll be first dealer."

They hadn't played for very long before they were interrupted, not that Jamie seemed to mind. Ten minutes in and he was already losing. Jack was all teeth.

"Overland?" Jack glanced away from his cards, looking up as Grant pulled up a seat at his table. The Private smiled and Jack noticed he was missing a tooth he hadn't been missing before. "Hey man, I thought you were dead!"

Jack rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help but smile. "I'm so glad you care."

"You know I'm joking," he snorted. "Everyone knows all about the great hero Overland over here saving our asses with, what was it? A snow globe?" He laughed to himself.

Before Jack could answer, Grant waved a few others over and invited them, of his own accord, to take a seat despite interrupting the game. Right away, it was glaringly obvious they were Privates just by the way they looked. They were the most distinguishable of all the ranks, all made up of poor posture and awkward glances like they weren't sure if they were allowed to look directly at anyone yet. Lots of the Officers had fun scaring the shit out of them and ordering them around even though they didn't have the right to. Nobody cared as long as they weren't trading duties or causing bodily harm. It was like an initiation phase. Once they straightened their backs and started looking people in the eye, they stopped getting messed with. But until that time, they were chew toys to a pack of stir crazy dogs.

Jamie sent Jack a look like he was annoyed by his friends interrupting not only their game, but their first chance at having some alone time in months, but Jack ignored it because that was mostly Jamie's fault in the first place. Besides, having admirers was so rare, why would he waste this chance to entertain them?

A girl whose name he didn't know leaned forward and he noticed the sling on her arm. He suddenly remembered seeing her in the muster station shortly after Millie freed him from the brig. They shared a smile, hers more shy than his, before she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked away.

Grant went on talking. "So, no, really. How _did_  you do it, Overland?"

Jack raised an eyebrow. "You didn't hear?"

To his surprise, they all shook their heads. He assumed everyone knew the details of his heroism since nearly everyone he'd come in contact with so far treated him so well, but he supposed it would be hard to know exactly what he did without knowing everything like the sand or the fail safe. Jamie only knew it all because he'd told him about it before knocking him out, and Pitch knew about it because he was the General.

"We know there was a lot of ice involved," Grant mused. "But we haven't heard the details. All I know is I was fighting off a Fearling one minute, and the next it was rushing up towards the quarter deck. I totally thought they got me with the poison when I heard some kid laughing. Freaked me out super bad."

The guy sitting next to him nodded, grey eyes wide. "Me too. We all stood around staring at each other like we didn't know what the hell was going on. Some people went up to see what happened, but I kept expecting them to come back down and finish us off." He shrugged. "They never did, thanks to you."

A grin grew slowly over Jack's lips and before he could say a word, Jamie cut him off with an unamused glare. "Don't even think about it, Overland."

"What?" Jack scoffed, waving a hand in his face. "They wanna know how it happened. I don't see why I can't give them a little...reenactment."

Grant grinned. "Really?"

Jack rose from his chair and stepped back from the table to give himself room for his upcoming theatrics. When Jamie gave him a sour look, he couldn't help but laugh. "Oh come on, Jamie. You used to love this."

" _Sophie_  used to love it." Still, he held the faintest hint of a smile.

That earned him a roll of the eyes. Jack turned back to his expectant audience. "So anyway, here's how it went down." The group leaned forward and the others in the room glanced over to see what he was going on about.

"There I was," he boasted, "cornered by Fearlings all the way around, back against the wall. The odds were against me. I told myself, 'Jack, this might be the end, but you're sure as hell going down fighting.' So I pulled out my sword and stabbed to my left, my right!" He pulled the sword out of its scabbard around his waist and jabbed at the air, giving them a show of what it was like as he fought off imaginary shadows. He made a great show of backing against the wall and a 'shadow' knocking his sword out of hand, swiping his foot and punching the nonexistent enemy in the face.

His small audience clapped at the heroic display, but Jamie interrupted before he could continue on. "If I remember correctly, you were shaking like a leaf in the upper observation deck against _one_  little Fearling until I saved your neck."

"Details," Jack scoffed. "I'm sure we both remember it differently. Who could say for sure?" Before Jamie could retort, he quickly went on. "So anyway, I found Jameson here up on the second level and we on to scope out the quarter deck. We knew it was a dangerous plan to go alone, but with all the injured, and those fighting their own battles, what choice did we have but brave the odds? The corridor was empty and quiet, the emergency lights hiding the shadows in every corner. We moved with caution to the General's office- empty, like the rest of the place..."

Jack continued to recount his experience during the ambush, over dramatizing scenes that were much less dangerous in reality. His hands expressed himself, accentuating the story and captivating the audience as they clung to every word. Jamie remained silent after the first comment and let him tell his tale as he pleased, only rolling his eyes during the particularly ridiculous bits of bravery that he knew never happened, but that was the fun of telling the story.

While he went on to describe how he discovered the strange way the shadows were acting, Jack soon realized that somewhere along the line he'd gathered an audience much larger than just those at the table. The entire room had gone silent, all of those watching and listening with bated breaths for his tale to go on. There were more people than he remembered when he'd first arrived, Privates and Officers alike paying him mind. Nobody played cards or talked amongst themselves. They were all there to hear him. When he realized it, a strange feeling overcame him, something akin to warmth; a familiar sensation that he hadn't felt in a long, long time, and he suddenly felt like he was back on his planet, back in the Orion constellation, standing around a campfire stringing along tall tales for a crowd of kids in his town. He felt tears fill his eyes and he urged them back so he could continue.

As he went on to recount the Captain's very last words, he looked up to see General Pitchiner enter the saloon. The General first stood outside the door, looking as though he just intended to pass, before he peered inside and spoke to someone near the door. Jack continued to talk as if he hadn't noticed his appearance. The energy backing his tone withered to something akin to an aching loss as the memory of Dervish's life fading fast from his once fiery gaze returned to him. The atmosphere felt heavy, but still those listening urged Jack to continue. He hesitated for a moment, a knot tying his vocal chords as he tried to gather his desire to continue after recalling such a loss.

He glanced up again to see, to his surprise, Pitch taking a seat near the door. They met each others' gaze for just a moment, and in that moment, Pitch smiled, and Jack realized he must have heard what he said about Dervish, the last bit of life that lived on only in his memories. So he returned the smile and continued with the story.

Jack was a master at storytelling, a true artist of the spoken word. He had the crowd laughing and crying all within moments of each other, and by the end, he took a bow. When his audience clapped, he couldn't help but laugh, and those in the room joined with him. He never ended a story sad. The atmosphere had lightened considerably and he felt a change, some subtle sort of feeling that something was different amongst them all. Jack looked out over the room and saw people smiling and laughing and discussing his tale with one another with a renewed sort of energy that they hadn't had in a long time.

The ambush effected them all. Some had lost their friends and loved ones, some were injured and poisoned, tensions were high from the possibilities of danger, nobody felt safe. But in that moment, none of that mattered. In that moment, they weren't just soldiers fighting a war, but friends gathered together to have a good time. There was a sense of normality that came as a rarity in a war, and Jack felt good about it.

Jack searched for Pitch's gaze and, once more, they shared a smile, and he felt that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roped us back into that little scene in the comic where Jack's standing around entertaining everybody, minus the sack of flour that I assumed was either his damsel in distress or an enemy.
> 
> Also, I know nothing about rummy. I had to google it just to write out that one little thing. I feel ridiculous.
> 
> I'm glad you're all enjoying the story so far! I know I say it a lot, but I still feel like I don't say it enough. I really love seeing your kudos and comments! They give me strength to keep writing! Thank you so much!


	11. Chapter 11

“I felt so full of love for everything. But at the same time, I felt so hung out there to dry, like nobody could ever understand. I felt so alone in this world, and so loved at the same time.”

_Maria Semple, Where’d You Go, Bernadette?_

\--

Another week went by with minimal activity. It was still too early for things to go quite back to normal—people were still high-strung—but they were laughing again; there was chatter filling the mess hall, casting the bone-dead silence of unease away. Jack still got the occasional, almost unsettling pat on the back whenever someone passed him by. The Officers spoke his name with a smile, the Privates looked to him with endearment, and those who once turned a blind eye whenever a subject involving him was brought up were suddenly bragging about his heroism to those who hadn’t heard the full story.

Rarely did Jack come in contact with Pitch. At first, he supposed that was to be expected with all the repairs to be tended to, all the deaths to be accounted for, the injuries to be checked, and any other duties the General was expected to maintain after a crisis such as the one his men went through. It had to be harder than ever on him with the Captain gone. To Jack’s knowledge, there was only one General per army, unless the size called for more, and one Captain per vessel, and the two of them were meant to intermingle and work together to keep things in running order. Dervish worked well with Pitch, and Jack didn’t doubt that it might have to do with the two of them sharing a history together. It would be hard to find a replacement for someone of that caliber.

Eventually, they would need to. Even civilian airships were required by law to have an assigned Captain. While the General tended to the technical areas, the Captain was meant to act as the ambassador, to fulfill the things that the General could not be bothered with on his own busy schedule, and to watch the ship while the General carried out business off the vessel.

The only good thing was that the shadows had only made a plan to attack the airship, and not to ambush the General and his crew while they were away. The General and his specially chosen crew had gone unharmed and returned in prime condition, so they were able to help pick up the pace where it was needed, but it wasn’t the same. A group still needed to be given orders on what to do and how to do it. It wasn’t the same as having a Captain who acted on his own without needing instruction.

While the extra work load was keeping Pitch understandably more busy than he usually was, after a while, Jack began to worry about him. Pitch never stayed in once place for very long, not even his office, never showed his face in the mess hall, and the only time he spoke to another person was to give them an order or to request a report. Whenever he tried to speak with him, Pitch would just remind him that he was very busy and go off on his own.

At the beginning, Jack felt put off, like a child being cast aside for more important things. He knew it wasn’t right to feel that way when Pitch was doing all he could to keep things together after it had gone so close to falling apart, but he couldn’t help himself. Everyone else acknowledged his good deed, congratulated him whenever they could, gave him an extra slice of cake just for saving their lives, and even though he didn’t inherently feel like he deserved that kind of recognition for doing his duty as a soldier, he still felt like he should have gotten something more out of it. He was still walking the halls as a Private First Class, nothing more. He didn’t want a ribbon or an award or something for his future kid to show off in class. All he wanted was to be a bigger part of things; some recognition from someone who mattered.

Towards the end of the week, Jack felt less like a child being put to the side when he started to notice something was off. Whenever he had the time off, Jack would follow Pitch at a distance, keep an eye on him, make sure he was actually taking care of himself. In conclusion, he clearly wasn’t. The most Jack ever saw him eat was a couple of bites of a snack on the stairs or in the corridors going from one level to another. He never stayed in one place very long before finding somewhere else to be. The bags under his eyes only grew by the day, leaving Jack to believe he wasn’t getting any sleep at night. While the air around others’ had lightened, the cloud over Pitch’s head seemed to have only darkened as time passed. The only time he’d seen the man smile was the time he’d allowed himself a short break in the saloon.

Jack gave it another day before deciding something needed to be done. He’d been put back on spotter duty a few days prior when he claimed to be feeling well enough to at least sit around and stare at a screen all day, so as soon as his shift ended for dinner, he stopped by the mess hall to grab a tray of food, and went to the quarter deck. If Pitch wasn’t in there, he planned to wait around until he arrived, but to his delight, the General answered when he knocked at the door.

Pitch looked less pleased to see him. “Overland? What are you doing here? I was just about to leave, so you can’t stay.”

Jack shook his head and stubbornly stood his ground, blocking the way. He held up the tray that he’d piled on with food. “If you’re going to see someone about something, they’re probably eating like everyone else, so don’t tell me you don’t have time.” When Pitch looked as if he wanted to argue, Jack swiftly went on. “I’m not here with business. I’m just looking to talk to _Pitch_ , not the General."

Pitch still looked as if he wanted to protest, but one glance at the look of determination scrawled on Jack's face and he receded with a sigh, moving away from the doorway and returning to his office. Jack silently marked down one tally under the mental chalk mark of his name and admired it in comparison to the blank board under _Pitch_  as he followed him into the room.

He took a step inside and the door nearly clipped him when it closed. He was just barely out of the way. He looked at it with a frown, moving one hand from the tray of food to wave it in front of the door. It didn't open right away as it should have since it was unlocked. Before he could question it, Pitch spoke up from across the room. "It hasn't been working properly for a few days. Since I need to be in my office for anyone to be inside, I haven't had the time to wait around for maintenance to fix it," he explained.

Jack rolled his eyes. That was just another reminder of why he was there.

When Pitch took a seat on the couch, Jack scooted some papers out of the way and set the tray of food on the table, gesturing to it silently before sitting in the chair he enjoyed so much. Pitch barely hid a smile behind his hand before reaching for a roll and dipping it in the stew before taking a bite out of it. Somehow, the way he ate came as something strange to Jack. He always assumed Pitch was the polite type to eat everything with a knife and fork, but the man seemed to care less about getting his hands dirty.

After finishing the roll—he really must have been hungry—Pitch looked back over at Jack. "What did you wish to speak about?" A pause before adding, with the faintest hint of warmth, " _Jack_."

Hearing his name made Jack smile. "You, for one." He leaned back and crossed his hands over his lap. "Consider this your intervention. You've been running around the _Nova_  ever since you returned. I think it's time you took a breather."

"Jack, there are things that need to be dealt with in a timely manner," Pitch calmly explained, his sour expression giving way to his true feelings on the matter. "Things went very wrong very quickly and I need to make sure that steps are taken so that the past is not repeated, not to mention settling the troubles caused by the event in question, as well as carrying out my usual duties. Once everything is taken care of, I'll have time for breaks, but now is just not that time."

Pitch looked back at the tray of food with a grimace, as if suddenly remembering all the work he had lined up for himself to do made him lose his appetite. He grabbed a napkin Jack had brought with it and patted at his mouth before getting to his feet. "We'll have more time to talk later."

Jack quickly stood, knowing that if he allowed Pitch to leave, there was no telling when he would get another chance to talk to him again. It was important that they settled things sooner than later. "Pitch, wait." He held his hand out as if to reach for him, to pull him back into his arms, but Pitch was much too far away. Still, the General paused and glanced back, looking more tired than impatient; more tired than anything else really. "It's more than the work, isn't it?" Jack pushed on. "You're upset and you're burying yourself in your work. I've seen it before, I know what it looks like. You're just pushing yourself so you don't have to think about what's really on your mind."

Something flashed in Pitch's silvery gaze, an look of diluted shock overcoming his expression, as if Jack had spoken a secret kept only to himself out loud unexpectedly. He looked indecisive, as if he was still torn on whether to leave or stay, but in the end, his shoulders dropped, his posture fell, and he turned fully towards Jack with all his years worn down on him all at once.

"It's hard," Pitch admitted, his voice just barely above a whisper. He was quiet for so long after that Jack almost began to wonder if he'd heard him correctly, or if he'd said anything at all, but after what felt like an hour passed between them, Pitch raised his head and looked up at Jack as if to silently question why he hadn't said anything in return.

When Jack truly realized what Pitch said, the impact of those two little words was like a blow to his chest. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open with a response that watered his eyes but dried his tongue, and he knew that he couldn't respond because there was nothing he could say. Right before his eyes stood the General, the founder of the Golden Army, defeater of shadows and evils of all kind: Kozmotis Pitchiner, the light in the void of space. And this man had just spoken two words, both small, but not simple, not in the least. _I_ _t's hard._

And Jack's heart ached for him too much in that moment because, yes, it was hard. It was hard to be Pitch. It was hard and nobody could do it but him.

A soldier is expected to be a strong, unwavering force, a tool used to fix the problems of the people, the innocent, the civilian kind. They are not meant to be seen with emotions. A soldier is the rock of the people, but the General is the rock of the soldier, the leader meant to lead by example. Where others may falter, they must stay true, steady, and strong. If the General were to fall, so would the solders fall after, and the innocent after them.

But an easy thing to forget was that Pitch was not _just_  Kozmotis Pitchiner, General of the Golden Army, but also, simply, _Pitch_ , a man beneath all else; human at the core just the same as anyone else. He was a father, a husband, a friend, a foe, a living, breathing person with his own thoughts, and experiences, and ability to feel. That was what separated them all from the shadows they fought, and yet many still forgot.

When Jack couldn't find the words to reply, Pitch filled the silence once more. "In war, in _life_ , loss is an expected inevitability, and yet it's not something you can prepare yourself to deal with before its time. It only continues to get harder." He sighed, a long, deep, drawn out sigh that seemed to hold the very essence of his being as he folded in on himself, a hand going to his aching head, the other crossing over his chest.

Finally, Jack found it in himself to speak without accidentally breaking the hypothetical glass between them. He'd gotten Pitch to open up, and while he hadn't said all that was bothering him, it was a start. "Take a break," Jack insisted, tone low and thick with the sorrow he felt for Pitch, because it was all he could feel without ever being able to truly understand what it was like to be him. He would never understand, just as Pitch could never understand what it was like to be Jack, but they could still share, still sympathize. As humans, that was all they could do. "You need it."

To his surprise, Pitch didn't protest this time around, only returned to his seat without a single comment against it. Jack moved away from the chair to join the General on the couch, sitting close enough for their thighs to touch in hopes that his presence alone might be enough to soothe him, if only a little. When Pitch leaned into him, Jack leaned back. A warmth he wasn't used to feeling came to surface within him and he wasn't sure what to do with it, so he pushed it just beneath the exterior of his being and focused on the man beside him.

Pitch reached up to rub at his eyes, glazed partly over with an exhaustion he'd probably been trying to ignore for some time. "Loss never gets any easier to deal with. Time tries to soothe old wounds, but sometimes events take place that bring the pain back," he divulged. "Captain Dervish and I have known each other a very long time, longer than Commander Irra, even. We met as Privates in the army of the past. While we were both as different as night and day, somehow, we still got along. He stuck with me through some trifling times." A smile ghosted over his face at some memory Jack couldn't see. It fell away as soon as it came. "The shadows have taken their worst from me."

He went silent again and Jack made no move to urge him to continue. Pitch had a faraway look in his eyes that came as familiar to Jack, something he'd seen a few times with the General in the past. He never thought to question it before, but now it worried him. Before he could ask, Pitch continued, voice soft against the otherwise silent room. "Jack, may I disclose some information with you? I'm not usually one to discuss personal matters, but this...is a special case. _You_  are a special case."

Jack had to force himself not to smile at the compliment. He wondered if Pitch knew how much it meant to him to hear. Biting his bottom lip, he nodded and reached for Pitch's hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "Go ahead."

He knew whatever Pitch was about to tell him was of utmost importance, an insight into his personal life that not many, if anyone at all, got to be apart of. Pitch was opening up a bigger part of himself to Jack, and to Jack only, and that meant the world.

Pitch unbuttoned the jacket of his uniform and reached inside for a hidden pocket, pulling out a photograph. When he saw it, his expression changed to something softer than Jack had ever seen before. Before he could get caught up in it and lose himself in his own world, Pitch held the photo out for Jack to take. Jack took it from him and held it in his own two hands as if it was a precious crystal figurine that would break if not handled with care. He could tell the importance of it just by the way Pitch stiffened at his side, as if he was nervous to even let someone else hold it, but the General straightened himself out, smiled again.

Jack focused on the picture. In it stood three people. One was obviously Pitch, not much younger than he was now, wearing a collared button down under a vest and a dark pair of pants. A woman nearly as tall as him stood by his side, her light auburn hair braided over her shoulder. She wore a long, flowing dress with designs too intricate for the photograph to capture, with expensive looking jewelry draped from her neck and wrists. Even with the older quality of photo, Jack could see her eyes clearly, soft and colored like the sky during the day. Between them stood a girl who was a splitting image of both of them. Her ebony hair was as wild and untamed as the expression she wore, a bright, pearly grin splitting her porcelain complexion. She wore a flower in her hair and there were splashes of mud at the ends of a skirt that looked just slightly too long for her. Behind the three stood marbled pillars outside a building too large to capture in the small photo.

"Is that your wife?" Jack asked; but he knew the answer. He knew a family photo when he saw one, and the three standing in the picture he held were the epitome of a beautiful aristocratic family. He recognized Seraphina right away, although he was sure she was older now. He'd only seen her a few times in the past, but even for being a young girl, she had a face that was hard to forget. The only one he'd never seen before was the woman.

At his side, Pitch nodded. "Lady Onyx Pitchiner, a true love of mine." At the mention of love, Jack's heart ached in a way he couldn't explain. He felt a tinge of jealousy, and a bit of burden, as if getting closer with Pitch was an unworthy act on his part. "I'm sure you recall the attack on our homes over two years ago, where the shadows converged on both the moon I made my home on and the planet you came from."

Jack pushed his bitter thoughts aside and focused on the importance of the conversation at hand. He nodded. "Of course I remember. How could I forget that? It's the whole reason I joined the Golden Army in the first place."

"When they attacked, I was out on an unrelated mission. The Dream Pirates were attacking in the Taurus Constellation and I went out to investigate. I wasn't even there when the shadows attacked the moon." He stared off into a distance that wasn't inside of the office, or even the _Nova_ , and Jack touched his arm to silently remind him of his presence. "When I returned, I found my home ransacked. I panicked when I couldn't find Onyx or Seraphina anywhere around and searched everywhere for them. Unfortunately, I...," he trailed off a moment, grimace overcoming his expression at the memory only he could see.

With a sigh, he held Jack's hand and pushed himself to continue. "Unfortunately, I did find Onyx in the back garden, holding one of Seraphina's dolls. From what I could imagine, she used it to lead the shadows away from our daughter and was drawn back too far on the upper balcony, where she fell to her death." His lips drew tight in a line and Jack squeezed his hand because it was all the comfort he could think to give. There wasn't much he could say to that, so all he could do was sit there and hope that his presence provided enough comfort for Pitch to be satisfied. "I found Seraphina hiding in the wine cellar, safe and sound thanks only to her mother."

Jack didn't miss the slight change in tone Pitch had, as if he blamed himself for the death of his wife. "Pitch, there was no way of knowing they were going to attack. You were doing your duty like you were meant to do. It's not your fault."

Pitch smiled softly at him. "Thank you, Jack." He brought Jack's hand up to his mouth and placed a small kiss to the back of his knuckles. Jack's cheeks burned at the intimacy of such a simple action, his heart racing the way it did only around Pitch. "I know it's a lost cause trying to think of a solution to an event that can't be changed, but I miss her. With Dervish dying, it only reminded me of the pain of losing a loved one. I created the Golden Army to destroy the shadows and keep others from suffering the way too many have already, but so far it's only caused more loss. I suppose I felt like burying myself into my work would somehow speed up the process of capturing them, but it's only made me weaker in the event that they attack again."

"I," Jack hesitated, swallowed, went on, "I understand." Pitch met his gaze, silver on ice. "I want them gone just as much as you do, for many of the same reasons as you do. I don't know where they came from, or why they're acting the way they do now, but I would do anything to end their reign of terror." He sighed and laced their fingers together, pushing the thoughts of being second best from mind and allowing himself to enjoy the moment of comfort while it lasted. "We'll get them. Someday."

Pitch continued to watch him in silence, a nod his only response. His gaze softened as he reached out with his free hand to take back the photograph, tucking it away in the safety of his breast pocket. "You've experienced loss, too, haven't you?" he said finally.

Jack wasn't sure he was ready to talk about it, ready to unearth emotions he'd spent so long trying to bury down only to have them break through every barrier he'd ever made at the mere mention of loss, but one look at Pitch's concerned expression, quietly explaining that he understood, and knowing that he _did_ , was enough to make Jack reconsider his silence. He thought for a moment, wondered if he could hold himself together to get out an explanation, and decided that it would be fine. He'd grieved, he'd moved on; he could talk.

"During the attacks," Jack uttered quietly, "they went to my home, too. After seeing what happened to the moon, we had more time to evacuate, find places to hide, but it was useless when they found us. We were just outside of town anyway, in a cabin we kept in the woods nearby. My parents were paranoid that the Fearlings were getting too close, so they went out to protect us, told me to find a place to hide and keep my sister, Olivia, safe. I took her out the back way when the shadows came through the front and tried to lose them in the trees. There was this cave under a short cliff that I found one time when I nearly fell into it and figured we would be safe there.

"We made it to the cave, but I wanted to make sure our parents were alright, so I told Olivia to stay behind while I went out to check. The next thing I remember after that is being swarmed. It's like they were just waiting for us to show ourselves. I couldn't get to Olivia in time before a Fearling took her and," he swallowed past the knot in his throat and the sudden throbbing in his head, "and I don't know what happened. I think one of them knocked me out. When I woke up, Olivia was gone, and so were the shadows."

In some faraway place, Jack felt hands in his hair, but he felt numb all over, chilled by the memory of losing his sister, of seeing her being taken away and not doing anything about it. He lost himself for a moment, standing in the forest on brown leaves dusted with snow from the end of fall, calling his sister's name when he knew she wouldn't reply.

"Jack?" Hearing his name spoken so close by when he was so sure he'd been alone startled him out of his thoughts and back to reality, where he sat in Pitch's office on the _Nova_  in the middle of space.

Blinking out of the daze, Jack managed a quiet laugh under his breath, surprised at the intensity of a time he thought he'd gotten over. He gave Pitch a smile to reassure him, leaning into the fingers running soothingly through his hair. He missed that. "My mom found me after I searched the whole forest for Olivia. She told me dad didn't make it. When I told her about Olivia, she just- She just looked so _struck_ , like I took away the last bit of hope she was holding onto."

"Jack, it wasn't your-"

"I know," he quivered. "I know, but she left after that. I tried to tell her it was too dangerous and that she should take some time to think first, but she wasn't rational, so she went out on her own to look for the shadows."

There was a short-lived silence as Pitch pondered his story, drawing his hand away from Jack's hair. "Is that why you joined us?" he asked softly. "To find your mother?"

Jack didn't respond right away. Sometimes he asked himself that very same thing. He always wondered what he would do if he ever found her, if she was even alive, what he could say or do to make her believe in him again, but rarely did anything come to mind. He had failed his job as a guardian and his punishment was the loss of his sister, his father, and his mother's belief.

"I want to find her," he admitted. "But mostly, I want Olivia back. The shadows took her, made her a Fearling. I want to get her back first, and then I can focus on my mom, if the shadows haven't killed her already. And finally, I want to get rid of the shadows. I want them gone."

"As do I," Pitch agreed. They shared a smile, two people brought together by the loss of their own, for a similar cause.

Pitch leaned over to kiss him, and Jack returned it softly.

Somehow, he felt lighter when Pitch pulled away, as if a weight had lifted—not entirely, maybe, but enough to become bearable again. He felt as though Pitch felt the same way. Between them stood a silent, intangible line that connected them in a way that was special only to them.

"You're truly full of surprises, Jackson," Pitch chuckled. "From the very moment I met you, I haven't been able to keep my thoughts away from you. First you prank the Officers, and then you save the soldiers from certain death." A larger, more genuine smile overcame him, and seeing it was enough to warm Jack's heart. "I'm glad I met you."

Jack barked a laugh, tracing Pitch's thumb with his own. A flurry of sarcastic replies came to mind, joking responses that didn't hold the truth of how he felt, but none of them came to surface. Instead, he found himself replying with honesty. "I feel the same."

The moment, however nice that it was, didn't last nearly as long as Jack would have liked it to. Just when he was ready to make himself comfortable and start feeding Pitch his dinner like some sap in a romance novel, Pitch stood up with a yawn, doing up the buttons on his uniform and smoothing down the jacket. "As nice as this was, I do need to return to my duties." He looked down at Jack with a heartwarming smile. "It should be curfew soon, so be sure to return to your quarters and try not to give me any more trouble. I'm already dealing with enough mishaps."

Jack couldn't help the toothy grin he gave in return. "I'll try to hold myself back, but no promises." He got to his feet and stretched his limbs, feeling more tired than he realized. The conversation may have lifted an invisible weight from his shoulders, but it still left him feeling drained to recall such an emotional matter. He turned towards Pitch and grabbed him by the front of his uniform, pulling the towering General down to his height. "I'll go, on one condition."

"Oh?" Pitch quipped, lips curled. "And what might that be?"

Jack leaned in close, barely brushed their lips together, pulled away. He softened his gaze. "Get some rest. Take some breaks. _Eat_. I know you've got a lot going on, but you know as well as I do that we all need you in your best condition, and this isn't the way to deal with what's on your mind." He tightened his grip, tilted up on his tip-toes until their noses touched. "Now, if you need a _real_  distraction, I'd be happy to oblige."

Pitch chuckled lowly. "I'll be sure to keep you in mind," he purred. He pressed his lips fully against Jack's, his hand coming up to tilt the soldier's head at a better angle.

When they pulled apart, Jack felt breathless, eyes glazed. "Are you sure you can't stay just a _little_  longer?"

"If I could, I promise I would." However, Pitch pulled away and Jack's hands fell from his uniform. "Unfortunately, there are still things that need my oversight." He smoothed back his hair and made sure his uniform was in order and looked like he was about to leave until pausing, as if just remembering something. "Oh, but I'm sure we'll have more time to talk tomorrow. In the morning, I'll be holding a conference to announce the new Captain, as well as a few other changes to rank while everyone's gathered."

"What does that have to do with me?"

With a shrug, Pitch turned towards the door. "Well, you'll be there." He motioned for Jack to follow him out of the office, turning to give him a smile. "Have a good night, Jack."

"Goodnight, Pitch." Jack waited until the General was out of sight before sighing and leaning up against the door. He ran his fingers through his hair, closing his eyes and relishing the memory of Pitch's doing so only a few minutes prior. The feeling of comfort brought a small smile to his lips, enough to ease any lingering tensions from the bitter memories that still lingered too close to the surface.

Just when he was about to move away, the door opened behind him and he fell inside the office with a shout of surprise. He groaned at the pain that shot him straight through the ass, shooting a glare at the busted door. A Warrant Officer, probably going to switch duties with another, passed by the office and only barely hid the smile that showed she'd seen the entire thing.

Cursing out everything that ever lead up to the invention of automatic doors, Jack got to his feet and decided, with a sore rear end, that it was probably time to go back to his room.

\--

Just as Pitch promised, right after breakfast finished, he made an announcement over the intercom for everyone to meet in the muster station. As everyone quietly and calmly gathered inside, Pitch stood patiently on the small platform at the front of the room, looking out over the heads of his soldiers. He looked as if he was doing a silent head count, expression thoroughly concealing any thoughts or emotions he may be feeling, which wasn't out of the ordinary. It was uncouth for a General to act without absolute professionalism most of the time.

Jack was one of the last few to get to the room, Jamie at his side as they moved to one of the walls on the far right so they wouldn't be pushed up against anyone. The spot they usually chose had a straight sight of the platform, close enough to hear clearly whatever was being announced.

The doors shut soon after they arrived when nobody else could be seen arriving. There were less people in the room than there'd been last time they all gathered in the muster station, but Jack tried not to think about the obvious reasons why. There were still those in sickbay or confined to their cabins, plus the Commanders who were meant to overlook the stations they were assigned to so nothing could slip by while the spotters were away from their stations.

Once everyone looked ready to listen, Pitch took to the platform and addressed them all, voice loud and clear so everyone would be able to hear. "As you should all know by now, during the previous incident where the _Nova_  was ambushed, our dear Captain Dervish was slain by the Fearlings. While nobody can replace him in our hearts, protocol calls for a Captain for each vessel, and after much consideration, I've chosen who will take that position." He cleared his throat and stepped aside to allow room for others to join him on the platform. "From here on out, the Captain of airship  _Nova_  will be Captain Elva Irra."

Nobody looked surprised that she would be the one to take the position, and, by the looks of everyone's faces, everyone seemed to agree that she was the best option. Irra appeared unphased as she stepped up to the platform, standing beside Pitch as he handed her the lunar badge, a moon-shaped metallic badge with a star at its side that all Captain's wore on their uniform. Each military rank went by the phases of the moon, with the exclusion of Privates, Private First Classes, and Corporals who only had a star, or two, or three, as well as the Captain, whose badge was both a full moon and a star connected, and the General, who wore a solar badge in the shape of a sun.

Once Irra wore the Captain's badge, the others politely clapped for her rise in rank. A speech wasn't necessary and, by the look Irra wore, it wasn't to be expected. She had nothing to say aside from a simple, composed, "Thank you for the honor, General," before stepping aside and allowing Pitch to continue.

"Now," Pitch went on, "to address the other changes to rank. Normally, I wouldn't bother to announce these things, but concerning recent events, these new titles are worthy of acknowledgement." He scanned the crowd, searching, until his gaze landed on someone standing near where Irra had once stood. "Senior Chief Petty Officer Jé Millie, approach."

Officer Millie looked just as surprised as Jack felt as she joined Pitch and Irra on the platform. A small, bitter feeling in the back of Jack's mind brought him back to the night she stood by as Cas beat the shit out of him, but he tried to cast it away. She'd done her best to make up for allowing that since then, but to him, it didn't feel like it was enough. He didn't think she was truly deserving of the rank she was going to be moved up to, but it wasn't his right to speak out of turn. Pitch decided she was worthy, so he would let Pitch continue to think that. His revenge was with Cas, not her.

Once Millie stood beside him, Pitch presented her with the appropriate badge, the lunar badge in the shape of a first quarter half moon. "For acting quickly in the line of duty and going to the aid of many who were under the influence of the Fearlings' nightmares, and pulling them out of their time of turmoil, you are well deserving of the rank of Master Chief Petty Officer."

She hesitated at first, glancing out to the crowd of her peers as she reached for the badge. Her gaze met with Jack's and she seemed to read his feelings of disapproval. For a moment, he thought she might reject it and stand down, but she looked away and took the badge from Pitch's hand, expression blank and tone quiet as she thanked him.

As she stood aside, Pitch continued. "Next would be Corporal Jameson Bennett."

At Jack's side, Jamie stiffened, eyes wide at those who turned to him with expectant stares. He shared a look with Jack, almost as if to ask how he should react, but Jack just grinned and ushered him to move along. He sheepishly wove his way through the others and stepped up onto the platform to accept his new badge.

"For helping those in need, seeing the Captain to his true end, and taking part in removing the shadows from the _Nova_ , in turn rescuing the ship from the grips of destruction and malice, I present to you the title: Sergeant."

Jamie couldn't help but smile as he took the badge. To others, he may have look composed, but to Jack, he looked like a child opening a box on his birthday to find his favorite toy inside. He knew better than anyone that Jamie's excitement was barely concealed and that as soon as the meeting ending, he would be jumping for joy. The last time he got a new rank, he talked about it for a week straight until Jack shoved bread in his mouth just to get him to stop bragging about it.

As Jamie stepped aside, conspicuously admiring his shiny new badge, Pitch moved to continue with his announcements. "There is only one more change in rank worth mentioning, one that goes to a soldier who has proven themselves worthy time and time again." He paused to once again search the crowd and Jack only had a moment to wonder who he might be referring to until silver eyes were locked on his own. His breath caught in his throat, words stuck to his tongue, as the others in the room turned towards him. Pitch smiled. "Private First Class Jackson Overland, you are more than worthy of your new rank."

Suddenly, Jack thought he might understand what Jamie felt before him as everyone watched his approach to the platform at the front of the room. He felt all eyes on him. The heat of a spotlight that only existed in his mind made his palms sweat as he stood next to the General, who turned towards him with the badge in hand. "For going above and beyond the act of duty, for acting quickly against the trouble at hand, for not only protecting the _Nova_ , but the lives of your own fellow soldiers, I, as well as the entirety of the Golden Army, am proud to present to you your new rank." They shared a look and the pride in Pitch's silvery gaze was almost too much for Jack, who already felt undeserving of the praise he'd been given, and the acknowledgement of his peers.

"From here on out, your title will be _Commander_  Jackson Overland."

The others in the room clapped to appraise him of his new rank, but Jack felt blown away. The statement was simple, but it was packed with so much more meaning than words alone. He looked down at the full moon badge in Pitch's hand, reached for it, hesitated. He met with Pitch's gaze once more just to make sure it was real, that he hadn't misunderstood, but Pitch smiled at him and he had to believe it was true.

When Jack took too long to take the badge, Pitch reached up of his own accord to remove the two stars Jack wore and pinned the new badge on his uniform in their place. Jack stared down at it, stilled in his disbelief, before looking up at the crowd of soldiers, of people he'd known for nearly three years, of the people whose lives they claimed he'd _saved_ , who were all clapping for him and praising his name. For a moment, for just that moment, he thought that maybe he'd found where he was meant to be after all.

He opened his mouth to say something, choked on his words, cleared his throat, tried again. "Thank you," he laughed. A smile fixed itself on his face as he touched a hand to his new badge. "Thank you."

Somewhere along the way of trying to find the source of his troubles, Jack had found the one thing he thought he would never find: a place to belong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of a sudden, my tags of "Private First Class Overland" are no longer accurate. Either way, proud of him. Baby boy blue is moving up in the world. //wipes tear
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I'm having a lot of fun writing for this each week and I can't wait to get it finished, although I don't think that'll be for a little while yet. We still have plenty of things to get through, so no worries. I have been planning a sequel which I'm excited about, so hopefully I'll still have the availability to do that once this one is finished.
> 
> Anyway, I absolutely love all your kudos and comments! Thank you for them all!


	12. Chapter 12

“Inside, the lies you tell become the person you become. On the outside, sun and reality shrink people back to their actual size. In here, people grow into their shadows.”

— _Rene Denfeld, The Enchanted_

\--

The five days after being made a Commander had gone surprisingly fast. Most of Jack’s time was spent around the other superior Officers—or, well, they weren’t his superiors anymore, but they still felt like it. When Pitch wasn’t ordering them around and actually taking the advice to rest like Jack had asked him to, they were pulling him from place to place, loading his head up with all the information he would need to know to carry out his new role. It was a lot of information to take in, especially since all he needed to know before was what button turned on the screen in the observation deck and which button turned it off.

There was new protocol, a different set of rules, how to present oneself, how to speak to others, what he could and couldn’t order others to do, and so on. For the most part, it all went in one ear and out the other as Jack just nodded his head and tried to memorize the pure basics of his new job. He didn’t think he would go around giving orders to people in any case (although he had tried making Jamie get his lunch for him one day, which, to nobody’s surprise, didn’t work and earned him a smack over the head, along with a wordy lecture about abusing his new power).

For the most part, it was the Commanders’ jobs to supervise the others. Most Commanders were each given a station to monitor, so with Irra being moved to Captain, Jack took over her area on the ninth level, which was fine with him. It was an easy enough job to make sure the spotters weren’t slacking off, or to round someone up if they didn’t report to duty when they were meant to. Since it was a floor up from the Privates' cabins, he was also meant to keep an eye out for any suspicious activity, but nobody ever did anything out of the ordinary anyway. Most troubles in the past were usually caused by him, anyway. Overall, it wasn’t much different than sitting around on spotter duty, only when a meeting was called, he would be able to attend and put in his own suggestions, and that was all he ever wanted.

Pitch was still busy with his usual duties, only he wasn’t alone anymore with Captain Irra at his side. She seemed to pick up on her new rank quite easily, so he didn’t have to explain every little thing to her. By the third day, Jack saw her more often than he did Pitch, which made him believe that she was taking care of the running around while Pitch tended to paperwork and maintaining everything from his office, or dealing with only the most important matters. Everything really was starting to return to normal.

Somewhere in the middle of falling asleep outside the front-left observation deck, close to dinner time, Jack was awoken from his boredom-induced slumber when a hand shook his shoulder. He immediately straightened and tried to look like he was doing some important Officer task, and definitely not like he’d just been dozing off, when he realized it was just Millie.

“Oh man, I thought you were Commander Darion,” he said through a yawn. He pushed away from the wall long enough to straighten out his clothes—they stopped wearing uniforms two days prior—and went back to leaning against it with his hands in his pockets. “Did you need something?” He looked around for a clock, frowning when he couldn’t find one in the corridor. “Is it dinner time?”

Millie, ebony hair up in a bun instead of its usual pony tail, rolled her eyes and shook her head, looking impatient from the start. Even when he wasn’t slouching, Jack was at least a foot taller than her. He didn’t doubt she could take him in a fight, though. She may have been shorter, but she was older, and more experienced, and seemed like the scrappy type. Jack was more of the “wing it” type of fighter.

Before he could let his mind wander anymore on the subject, Millie interrupted his thoughts. “It’s Cas.” She glanced off to the side as she said it, emerald eyes reflecting her unease.

Immediately, Jack narrowed his gaze, livid indifference replacing the ease he felt before. “What about him?” Not that he cared, but he figured going along with it would move the conversation along faster, and hopefully she would tell him whatever she came for and leave him alone. He still had mixed feelings about her. Just because she got a shiny new rank like he did didn’t change the fact that she’d simply stood by while Cas beat the shit out of him in his own cabin. She helped others through their nightmares, but that was something she was _supposed_  to do anyway. She was just doing her duty. For the most part, she’d stayed out of his way, neither of them caring enough to build an acquaintanceship.

She sighed, reaching around to loosen the bun her hair was in without pulling out the hair tie. She didn’t look comfortable with it, but he didn’t care to ask why she was wearing it differently. “I’ve been watching him since the attack when I’m not busy with my other duties. He seems to be recovering, but lately he keeps asking to see you.” Before Jack could even open his mouth to ask, she cut him off with a wave of her hand. “Don’t ask why. I’ve tried. He won’t tell me. He just says he wants to talk to you.”

Jack huffed out an incredulous laugh. “Yeah, that’s not happening.” He tilted his head back in another yawn and realized, when he opened his eyes, that there was a clock above the doorway to the observation deck. Pushing away from the wall, he checked it and grinned when he discovered it was only a few minutes away from dinner. Turning back to Millie, his smile fell away. “Whatever he has to say isn’t worth my time. Whenever I go anywhere near him, something bad happens, and it’s usually caused by _him_ , so you’ll excuse me if I’m not rushing to hear him out.”

She opened her mouth, paused, closed it, and reconsidered what she wanted to say. After another moment, she sighed again and cursed under her breath, not even trying to hide her comment about hating men, to which he shot her an offended glare that she obstinately ignored. “Look, I get that he’s been an ass in the past, and I can’t guarantee he won’t be an ass in the future, because that’s just how he is, but he won’t let this go. Ever since he found out you were alive, he’s been asking about you, trying to get me to convince you to talk to him.” She gave Jack a hard, steady look that told him she wasn’t going to give up on this until he agreed, but what she obviously didn’t know was that Jack had a knack for being stubborn. “He tells me he just wants to talk. If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll be in the room, too.”

Again, he laughed. “Because that worked out so well last time,” he scoffed. “Look, Millie, I don’t care. I don’t want anything to do with him. He’s probably just delusional from the poison.”

“Maybe,” she agreed, shoulders sagging. She looked tired, but so did a lot of people. He didn’t have to feel pity for her over something that should've had nothing to do with him. “He still thinks he sees things sometimes. A few days ago he went on and on about seeing Fearlings that weren’t there, but that’s stopped. He doesn’t attack anyone anymore."

Although he wasn't sure why he bothered continuing the conversation rather than leave her with an excuse that he needed to inform the others that it was nearly time for dinner, Jack looked up at Millie from picking at his nails, still trying to look the least bit interested. "So, shouldn't he be released from quarantine already?"

He was waiting for it, honestly. He wanted to hear the word that Cas was back on his feet and ready for duty so he could snap the string and report him to the General. There were many things Jack would tolerate, but he wasn't a push over. Cas fighting him over a prank was one thing, but the Officer attacking him in his room with his guard down was not acceptable. With Irra taking over as Captain, Pitch would have enough free time to take care of issues unrelated to the shadows, he was sure.

Millie seemed to read his mind, her expression showing her hesitance. After a moment, she came to the conclusion that if she wanted anything out of Jack, she would at least have to give him any information he asked for. "It's been considered," she admitted. "But Elv- Captain Irra and I agree that he's not ready for it yet."

"Soooo," Jack drawled, rolling his hand in the air for emphasis, "he's still got a case of the crazies, is what you're saying. Let me get this straight. You want me to go have a nice little conversation with _Cas_ , the guy who put a potato sack over my head and knocked me unconscious, locked me in the brig, and then chased me down like a crazy person and left me to die? Please, stop me if I'm wrong- Oh!" He snapped his fingers as if a bright idea just came to mind. "I know. Maybe I'll bring him some flowers and wine and we'll have a nice little picnic over our chat. We'll be besties by the end of the day, frolicking off in the Sea of Stars with our-"

A hand smacked over his mouth and he grinned behind it as Millie's simmering emeralds met with his luminous light blues. "Shut _up_ , Overland. For life's sake, I'm remembering why everyone used to hate you." She pulled her hand from his mouth and rubbed her temples. He tried not to feel pride for his ability to give anyone a headache with the most minimal effort involved. She took a moment to compose herself, mumbling about just giving it up and leaving Cas to deal with his hangups on his own. Just when Jack was sure she was about to give up and leave him alone, she looked back up at him, eyes narrowed, confused, rather than annoyed. "What did you say before?"

He frowned and tried to think back, but he'd mostly just been rambling to get her to go away. "About the picnic, or-?"

"No, idiot, not the picnic. God, I hate boys." She rolled her eyes, temper barely concealed behind a veil of whatever had struck her as odd. "The- Before that, you were going on about all the stupid things Cas did to you. When did he chase you down? Leave you to die?" She frowned. "Did he do something during the attack?"

 _Oh_. He shifted, feeling suddenly uncomfortable under the heat of her gaze. She looked less angry, but he wasn't in the mood to talk about what happened. He didn't like thinking about it. In fact, he never planned on sharing that part with anyone, not even Pitch or Jamie. It wasn't necessary information. "It's not important. Look, it's time for dinner. I need to make sure everyone switches out." He tried sliding past her, but she blocked his way from the wall. She crossed her arms over her chest, jutted her hip, and Jack knew that was her way of saying she wasn't going anywhere. With an annoyed, albeit childish, groan, he ground out, "For the record, I've never been that fond of girls either, but fine. You win."

Satisfied, she moved away to give him more breathing room, openly ignoring the comment to let him continue. Sighing, he rubbed the back of his neck and tried to think back. "It's not that important since everything happened after he got poisoned, but I found him attacking another soldier in the mess hall, so I gave him a little stab to shock him out of it, but all that did was make him turn on me. We ended up in one of the upper observation decks, surrounded by Fearlings, and when one of them got me down, instead of helping me out, Cas just left me there."

Millie's arms dropped from her sides. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened, but she couldn't find the words. Before she could think of what to say, Jack held up a hand to stop her. "Look, like I said, it was after he got poisoned. I wasn't going to say anything because he was still seeing things."

He thought she would be angry, since that seemed to be her reaction to most things, but he was surprised to see that she looked hurt more than anything else. Her eyebrows knit together, her eyes closed, and she was silent for another moment as Jack stood awkwardly off to the side, unsure of how to react, or what to do. He considered comforting her, but he wasn't sure how, and when he reached his arm out to get her attention, her eyes snapped open and he feared losing a limb, so he pulled away.

"I do so much for him," she whispered. Jack wasn't sure if she was talking to him or to herself. He was just glad nobody else was around. She paused, took in another breath, calmed herself down. When she looked back at him, she seemed more composed, more steady, more like herself—or, at least, more like the Millie he was used to. "It could've been the poison," she went on, "but that would only be another excuse. Cas has been- He's just..." She paused, sighed, clucked her tongue. "He's just an _ass_ , okay? We both know that. And he's been fixated on you for a while, ever since you got his rank dropped, like, a year ago. He never let that go."

Again, she paused, reaching back to loosen her bun again before getting frustrated and taking the hair-tie out of it, letting it fall into its usual ponytail. "I fucking hate buns. Elva told me I need to wear one in uniform, but we're not in uniform anymore, so screw it." After placing the hair-tie in her pants pocket, she continued with the subject at hand. "Look, I don't know what he wants this time. I don't know if he wants to apologize, or cuss you out, or just confirm for himself that you're alive, but if you don't do it for him, do it for me. I know you don't owe me any favors, you really don't, but if you do this for me I'll make sure Cas stays out of your hair. In fact, when he gets released, if- if you want to go to the General to get him discharged, I'll stay out of the way." She shifted, glancing away. "Honestly, I was going to interfere before, but hearing about what he did- It's not worth it. It'll probably be good for him to get some rest at home, anyway."

Jack considered protesting, but the corridor was starting to fill up with people leaving their stations to go to the mess hall for dinner and he didn't want the conversation to continue any longer. "Fine. I'm busy after dinner, so we'll go now. I'll just grab something later."

Her smile was brief, but not without appreciation. "Thanks, Overland."

He shrugged, not exactly pleased with the prospect of talking with the person who hated him more than anyone else on the _Nova_. "If he lays one hand on me, I'm leaving. You come inside with us and stay until I leave. I don't like using my rank, but I'm not going to let him jump me while you just stand there doing nothing again. If that's what this is, he's going to be dragging you right down with him."

"Understood."

While Jack wasn't in the best of moods following Millie up to Cas's cabin on the seventh level, something was on his mind and the silence between them felt too tense for him to keep from interrupting it. "Why do you care so much about him anyway?" He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes, trying to look less curious than he felt. "You and D'gell have been following him around since I got here. You're obviously better than he is. He's, what, around your age? And still acts like a school bully? Did you lose a bet?"

She huffed, rolling her eyes. "It's not like that. I've always been stuck cleaning after him. He's always been a spoiled brat, so he's used to getting his way and not dealing with the consequences. When he joined the Golden Army, he found out real fast that things don't work like that around here." She sighed, shook her head. "I hoped it would even him out, actually, but then he glommed onto D'gell and that ass is just a bad influence. After you came along and started pulling the shit you pull, he's only gotten worse."

"It's not my fault he took it personally," Jack tsk'ed. "I didn't even know his name until Captain Dervish had us train together."

She blew out a sour laugh. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make it sound like I was blaming you." He shrugged in response, and she fell silent, looking off towards the corridor ahead of them. Some soldiers passed, but most were just heading up to the mess hall, and nobody wanted to interrupt two Officers having a conversation.

After a beat, Millie spoke again, voice softer than Jack was used to. "Haven't you ever loved somebody?"

He froze at the sudden remark, unsure of how to respond. When he realized what she must have been implying, he glanced away. The last thing he would've considered in his schedule was discussing his love life with Millie, of all people. "Uh, I guess so." He paused, frowning. He didn't want to admit that the first person to come to mind was Pitch, especially when he still didn't have his feelings for the General entirely figured out. He didn't even know what to call their relationship. With all that'd been going on lately, he didn't have as much time to think about it. "I'm not sure, actually," he admitted. "Is that why you stay with Cas?"

She nodded, expression somber. "He means a lot to me. When I found out he was poisoned, I didn't know what to do. I just stayed nearby and helped the best I could, but it didn't help as much as I hoped it would." As they arrived on the seventh level, she slowed her walk, as if she suddenly didn't want to see him as eagerly as she seemed to a few minutes prior. "He's always been a brat, like I said, but he wasn't always... _this_. You have to understand, the Cas you know is different than the Cas I know."

He wanted to believe her, but all he could imagine was Cas looking him in the eye and leaving him for dead, and he just felt bitter all over again. "Let's just get this over with."

When they reached Cas's cabin, Millie paused to knock. A few moments later came the reply, "Come in." She pulled out her card key and scanned the lock on the outside. It felt like it took longer than it should have, but the door soon opened and Jack found himself stepping inside the cabin of his enemy.

It wasn't like he thought it would be. For some reason, the image Jack had in mind was Cas sitting alone in the middle of a wrecked room, possibly in the dark like some insane person. Instead, Cas was sitting at a desk Jack didn't have in his own room, the dim lights on overhead. Everything besides the covers on the bed seemed to be in order. The room was virtually spotless besides a few stray articles of clothing and some balled up pieces of paper. It looked the same as any other and Jack suddenly felt ridiculous for thinking it would look any different at all. Cas wasn't some evil villain with a dark cloak, or an eye-patch, or a maniacal laugh. He was just some guy.

Millie continued inside, taking a seat at the end of the bed that stood between the two boys. Jack remained by the door, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. He wasn't taking any chances. He wanted to make the conversation as brief as possible so he could get out of there and never have to speak to Cas again.

Cas turned his chair around so he was facing Jack. He looked the same as ever, although maybe a bit more worn down. Even in the dim lighting and from across the room, Jack could see the bags under his eyes, his droopy posture, the way his hair fell over his face as if he hadn't bothered doing anything to it in a while. He hung over himself, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his legs and his hands steepled together like he was ready to start a therapy session. His eyes were dull, expression as drained as the rest of him.

Jack almost let himself relax at the sight of him. Even if Cas wanted to attack him, he doubted he actually could. Every movement Cas made, when he drew his arm up to push his frosted bangs from his eyes, and even when he simply smiled, was slow, drawn out, as if it took some amount of effort to do even the smallest things.

When Cas was silent for too long, Jack grew uncomfortable, shifting his position by the locked door. "So? I heard you were asking for me. I'm here, so let's hurry up."

Cas's laugh was just as languid as the rest of him, low and breathy. "What's the rush, Overland? We have our whole lives ahead of us, after all."

Wrinkling his nose, Jack glanced first at Millie, then back at Cas. "Okay, _creepy_. Ominous. Not really liking this so far; not off to a great start, but sure, let's keep going." He rolled his eyes and made a halfhearted gesture for Cas to go on. "What do you want, Cas?"

"Always with the golden sense of humor, Overland," Cas continued, tone as sour as it always was. "I'm surprised you didn't agree to show up just so you could dump some sewage water over my head. Or am I missing the joke?" He looked like he wanted to continue on a tangent, but Millie shot him a look and he sobered up, shifting back in his chair with a renewed attitude that Jack expected, but didn't think he deserved to have considering _he_  was the one who wanted him there. "I was hoping to discuss these matters in private, but I can tell that's not going to happen, so I'll just come right out with it."

His tone shifted to a more serious one, his gaze narrowing on Jack. "The shadows attacking the _Nova_  was no coincidence. I'm sure that much, at least, should be obvious by now. My way of gathering information of what's been going on with everyone else has been a little, well, restricted lately, without the ability to leave this fucking hole in the ground, but," he cleared his throat, "I digress."

Jack glanced back at Millie to see if she had any clear idea what the Petty Officer was trying to say, but her eyes were trained on Cas, waiting for him to continue. However, when he looked up, Cas's own gaze was trained strictly on him. He tried not to show his discomfort.

As if he noticed it anyway, Cas's lips curved ever the slightest. "These are the things I've heard: the shadows weaseled their way inside the airship while the shields were down way back when, stowing away in the generators, and then they laid in wait for the Dream Pirates to lead the General and his best men away so they could attack, which, as you might recall, they did." He paused for a moment to reach for a bottle of water on the desk behind him, uncapping it and taking a short swig before bothering to continue. "My question is, with all the maintenance checks our generators have, plus all the cameras that are positioned in every corner of the ship, how did nobody, not _one_  person, see a sign of Fearlings on board? They're assumed to have come aboard when the generators went temporarily down a few months back, right? So, wouldn't there have been people down there checking the systems?"

Frowning, Jack tried to ignore the faint curiosity tugging at him. "What are you getting at? The Fearlings can hide away, so even if there were people checking the generators, they easily could've been overlooked, especially if there were just a few of them."

Cas shook his head, clucking his tongue in disappointment. "And here I thought you, of all people, would understand. After all, _you're_  the one who saved us all from being run out, right? _You're_  the big, grand hero, aren't you? And what, exactly, is it that you did to get rid of them, again?" Before Jack could answer, Cas went on. "You froze them. At least, that's what I heard." Although it was his own argument, Cas's expression didn't match his tone. He didn't look as if he entirely believed that, but he spoke as if it was the truth. Jack wondered if he was just reading him wrong.

When Cas noticed that Jack still didn't look like he entirely understood, he let out an annoyed sigh, bringing a hand up to his forehead. "For life's sake, you're the idiot who pulled it off and you still don't get where I'm going with this- You can't freeze _shadows_ , Overland. You can't freeze shadows because shadows are intangible, that's why we call them _shadows_  in the first place."

"That's because they're not shadows anymore," Jack added, slowly realizing what Cas was trying to say. "They're sand, black sand. Whenever we took one down, they fell into a pile of sand, instead of disappearing like usual. They were slower. That's why I thought freezing them would work."

"And it did, didn't it?"

Slowly, Jack nodded, shrinking back again, his face twisting in confusion as he tried to think it all through. "So...sand is tangible, which means they couldn't go through walls anymore, or inside...of generators. They would've had to disrupt the generators manually and they should've shown up on camera without being able to just slip under the surface of the _Nova's_  bottom." He looked back at Cas, hesitating on his next words. "Are you...trying to imply that the Fearlings coming aboard was some sort of inside job?"

Cas grinned, giving Jack a slow clap for finally figuring it out. "How long would you say that took, Jé? Five minutes? _This_  is our quick-thinking hero." He huffed out an incredulous laugh, taking another sip of water.

When Millie didn't respond, Jack went ahead, irked by the Officer's sarcasm. "If that's what you think, why are you telling me? I know the General's been here a few times. Why not tell him?"

Cas's grin didn't falter in the slightest. "'Why'? I wonder that, too," he vaguely replied. For the first time since Jack arrived, he was starting to see what Millie tried explaining to him. In the glint of the Officer's murky green gaze hid a carefully concealed spark of something _not quite right_  lying just beneath the surface. He was suddenly glad that he'd told Millie not to leave the two of them alone together. He had a feeling that she may have been the only thing keeping Cas on the other side of the room.

"Maybe," Cas went on after a moment, "maybe I'm telling you because I feel like you might be the only one who would believe me. The General and the others have all seen me rambling like a mad man for weeks." He sighed, ran a hand through his flat, unstyled hair. "The poison's definitely taken its toll on me." He looked up once again to meet Jack's gaze. "But if there's anything I'm sure about, it's this. Things aren't the way they seem, Overland. While there's nothing much I can do about it from where I stand, I know you, and your shiny new badge, can at least keep a look out. That's all I'm asking." Again, he smiled, and again, his expression didn't quite match his tone. "You just might want to watch your back."

Jack felt unnerved by the statement alone. It sounded more like a threat than a warning. The air felt cold and he no longer felt as safe as he once did. Even if Cas didn't look like he could do much in his condition didn't mean that he couldn't have some tricks up his sleeve. "Yeah, sure, I'll keep an eye out." He turned his back on Cas's grin, putting his hand over the panel next to the door to unlock it. "I've heard enough. I'm leaving."

The light flashed green, but the door didn't open right away. He frowned and stared it down, growing increasingly agitated the longer it took. He reached a hand out, retracting it with a jolt of surprise when someone stepped up behind him. He turned a wide-eyed gaze on the perpetrator, relaxing only when he saw that it wasn't Cas; just Millie.

She frowned at him. "Overland? What's the problem?"

He let out a breath and tilted his head towards the door. "The door won't-"

Before he could finish, Millie put her hand out and waved it in front of the door. As it should have done, the door finally slid open with a quick _swoosh_. "It's nothing," she assured him. "The doors have just been acting a little weird lately. Since Cas still isn't permitted to leave, I haven't bothered having maintenance come by yet." She shrugged, shooting him a look of concern as she motioned for him to leave first. "You okay?"

He nodded slowly, stepping cautiously through the doorway. He immediately felt better once he was standing in the corridor. Glancing back at the doors as they shut behind Millie, he felt ridiculous for being so on-edge. "Yeah," he laughed. "I'm cool. It's nothing. Pitch's office is the same way. The Fearlings probably messed some up when they were on board."

After locking the door with her card, Millie turned away from the room and raised an eyebrow at him. "'Pitch,' huh? Seems pretty casual for the General." She gave him a knowing smile that made his cheeks burn. He glanced away, unappreciative of her suggestive gaze, earning a laugh from the older Officer as she smacked him a little too hard on the back. "Oh, Overland, please. Practically everyone's been talking about it. When the General returned and heard about what you did, he dropped everything and refused to leave your side for the entire time you were out. He made sure you got the top of the line treatment. I've been in the Golden Army a lot longer than you have, and trust me when I say, he's never acted that way about _anybody_. Besides, maybe, his wife, but she rarely came on board."

Going from talking to Cas to suddenly discussing his relationship with Pitch somehow made Jack feel better. He couldn't help but return the smile, especially at the thought of Pitch caring enough about him to make him a number one priority during a crisis situation. _No wonder he had so much work to do after I woke up._  His heart fluttered in his chest at the thought. He suddenly wanted to see him again, but he wouldn't have a chance to until the next day.

At Millie's teasing, Jack nudged her with a grin and a roll of the eyes. "Like you're one to talk. At least I'm not with some sociopath with fake, frosted bangs."

Immediately, Millie stopped walking. "What?"

Jack had to pause, turning back to look at her with a faltering smile. "You and Cas are a thing, right? I mean, that's what everyone's been saying. It seems kind of obvious."

"Me and..." She paused, expression twisting from confusion, to realization, to something akin to hysterical. "Me and _Cas_? Is that what people are saying?" She doubled over right in the middle of the corridor and the laugh that came from her was loud enough to echo off the walls and turn the heads of those nearby. Her hands wrapped around her stomach as if she could barely hold herself together, completely oblivious to anyone whispering to themselves and twirling their finger by their head to say she'd finally lost it. Never having seen her act so out of the ordinary before, Jack was almost inclined to believe that maybe she had.

He was just starting to worry about her when her laughs finally started dissolving into light huffs. She picked herself back up and wiped the tears from her eyes, looking at him with a smile nearly big enough to split her face. It felt odd to see a look like that on her. He didn't know she was even capable of that.

When her laughter died off enough for her to catch her breath, she made an attempt to recompose herself to an inkling of her usual self, smacking Jack once again a little too hard on the back. He flinched, pursing his lips and giving her the same look everyone else had, although anyone who'd looked over before had moved on to continue about their business. "I don't understand. What's so funny about that? You and Cas are always around each other, you're always covering for him." He waved his arms to gesture to an invisible event. "Just before we went in there, you said you _loved_  him."

"Overland, you idiot," she crowed. "Cas isn't my lover, he's my _brother_."

 _Oh_.

Suddenly, Jack felt very much like an idiot. "Oh," was all he could say, but it was hardly a testament to just how wrong he'd been all that time. He wasn't the only one who thought the two had a romantic relationship, though. Lots of people talked about it. Being stuck in close quarters on an airship out in empty space for months at a time was boring above all else. Everyone was in everyone else's business. There were always rumors going around. It was hard to keep things secret or private when everyone was so eager to go around gossiping about each other. This one, however, was a hit and miss. A _huge_  hit and miss.

"Well, I guess it's better that than the truth," Millie admitted after a moment of silence, a smile still spread over her lips. "I'll let you in on a little secret, Overland." She glanced around to make sure they were alone and not to be overheard before motioning for him to lean in. Just in case anyone came by, she lowered her voice as she spoke again. "The Captain? I'm hittin' that."

Jack gasped, feigning shock and awe. "No way. Irra?" He shook his head, laughing as he pulled away from her. "I don't believe you." He couldn't imagine Irra in a relationship with anyone. There was a time when he thought she may have had something with Pitch, but that passed when he and Pitch started doing things with each other. Irra was so stoic and, well, _mean_. Trying to imagine her being mushy with another human being just didn't fit her image.

Millie nodded to confirm. "It's true." She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him back towards her again, leveling his gaze with her own. "If you tell a soul, I'll make you smooth. If you think my brother's a tyrant, you wouldn't want to know what I'm like."

When she let him go, he gave her a stiff nod. He had the greatest urge to step out of reaching distance from her, but he resisted, making a mental note to never get on her bad side. "Noted," he replied, still smiling over the thought of Millie and Irra making kissy faces at each other in private. He supposed he couldn't really talk, though, considering when he first met Pitch, he thought he was a tall block of intimidation with the emotional availability of a brick, but when they started to get to know each other, he learned that Pitch was actually a lot more than that.

"I wanna grab some food before dinner's over," he said once they reached the stairs. "Wanna come with?"

She shook her head. "No, there's some things I need to take care of. I have some things in my cabin if I get hungry later." When Jack nodded and started to turn away, she hesitantly reached out for him, grabbing his sleeve and getting his attention once more before he could go. "Overland, before you go, about what Cas said- He's said it before, so I'm not surprised he told you about it, but you don't really believe what he said, do you?"

He frowned, hesitating. "Honestly, I'm not sure what to think. He seemed like he really believed it, and I guess some of what he said makes sense, but it's a little hard to believe that anyone on board would be a traitor. I can't imagine why anyone would _want_  the shadows to take over the _Nova_."

"Me neither," she sighed. "Sorry for pushing you into it, but he wouldn't let it go until I at least got you to listen to him. That should be the last you hear of him."

He shrugged, glancing away. "Yeah, well, as long as he stays out of my way." Again, he said his goodbyes, and left for the mess hall on his own.

Later that night, getting ready for bed, there was only one thing on his mind. He thought if there was anyone suspicious of letting the shadows on board, it would be Cas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a whole lot of action in this one, but definitely a bunch of tension.
> 
> Why do Cas and Millie have different last names if they're siblings? Probably step-siblings or something of the sort.
> 
> Thank you all for your comments and kudos!! I appreciate every one I get! Things have gotten a bit slower lately, but trust me when I say, we'll be picking it up reeeal soon.


	13. Chapter 13

“But the fact is, dreams catch us with our armor off.”

― _Victoria Schwab, The Unbound_

\--

Jack awoke to a forest. A headache pounded at the walls of his mind, an aching groan left his being as he forced himself up into a sitting position. Everything felt stiff, crisp, chilled to the bone. Under his hands was a mixture of leaves, from dark green to dark brown, all covered with a thin layer of frost. When he breathed, his breath formed in front of him, an ephemeral mist that faded as quickly as it came until it blended in with the fog around him, fading the trees into the background. It made everything feel a lot less tangible, but a lot more eerie. As if to make sure he was really there, he grabbed a handful of leaves and crushed them in his fist. The bits fell away when a light breeze blew by.

The cave came into view and suddenly, as if reality had finally come crashing down at him all at once, Jack realized the situation. He got to his feet so fast that the world spun and his legs gave out on him mid-run. He tripped over his own feet, slipped on the frost-covered leaves, scrambled back up again on his way into the cave. It was shallow, carved into the face of a cliff that was shorter than it seemed from the top. He recalled the time he found it about a year back, when he’d run away during a snowstorm and fell through a hole that lead straight down into it. His mother had grabbed his hand to pull him back, but he ended up pulling her down with him. In his daze, she’d given him soup to warm him up enough to make the trip back home.

He would have smiled at the memory if it wasn’t for the panic that was threatening to rise through his throat like bile. It tasted tangy on his tongue, stung like acid, and even though he opened his mouth and knew, _knew_ , something was coming out, he couldn’t hear the scream that followed. He couldn’t hear anything but the crunch of leaves underfoot and the occasional breeze blowing by. Eventually, his throat rubbed itself raw and he gave it up, leaning wearily against the wall of the cave and peering inside. It was empty.

Again, he opened his mouth to say something. His lips formed, _“Olivia,”_  but no sound came out, and he felt broken by it. He felt broken by a lot of things.

A cold, stark streak of panic shot through him, a familiar foe that he’d never had to face so directly before. It slowly cut through his core, like someone was hammering a nail into his chest. Again, he called for his sister, and again, no sound came out. All he could hear was the quickening pace of his breath as his panic swept the air from his lungs. The adrenaline came next, pushing him forward to look for any nook or cranny in the cave that could hide another human being. When he concluded that there wasn’t any, he ran from the cave and back out into the woods, his feet crushing frail leaves into dust as he ran blindly about. His mouth moved on instinct, even though it was obvious that nothing he could say would bring words. Or rather, nothing he could say would bring her back.

What felt like hours later, when his legs would no longer move him forward, Jack returned to the cave where he’d last seen his sister and dropped to his knees, breathless, exhausted; desperate above anything else. He would’ve bargained with any devil out there if it brought her back. He would’ve given his soul away ten times over.

When his eyes grew heavy, he passed out.

Jack awoke to a cave. Light poured in from the hole overhead and snow fluttered around the entrance. Leaves were scattered about the ground from past winds blowing them inside, but otherwise, the ground was nothing but cold, hard dirt with barely thriving blades of grass trying to push their way through despite the circumstances against them. Olivia pushed against his side, her head tucked under his arm as he rubbed circles on her back and whispered words he couldn’t even hear, making him wonder if she could either. Regardless, his lips kept forming silent words in the hope that some might get through to her.

Aside from the light wind blowing outside, it was silent. Edgy and anxious, Jack got to his feet, starting towards the entrance of the cave until a small hand tugging on his shirt made him pause. He looked back and met with the teary gaze of his sister, her warm cocoa eyes melting the ice of his own. _“I need to make sure they’re safe,”_  he mouthed to her. _“You’ll be safe here. Don’t leave until I come back.”_

She didn’t look happy about it, but she nodded and sat back down. Giving her a reassuring smile, Jack turned and continued out of the cave.

Like stepping into a trap, shadows swarmed them immediately. They came from the trees, from the leaves, from the very air itself. They circled him with swords at the ready, backed him against a tree with only his bare fists to protect himself with. He could see right through their eyes, their grins splitting their faces in half as they chattered mindlessly amongst each other, going in for the kill.

A scream from behind them grabbed their attention and, just as soon as they’d swarmed him, they fell back, moved towards the cave where a little girl with much sweeter dreams was hiding away. He felt himself tell them to get away from her, but his voice must have been just as silent to them as it was to himself because they made no move to stop, not even to slow down, as they captured his sister. He could hear her screams in his head, louder than anything he’d heard that entire time. Before he could even reach the entrance of the cave, she was gone, and the Fearlings were already fading away.

As they faded, darkness clouded his vision.

Jack awoke to an empty home. He recognized the bed as his own and as he slowly moved to get out of it, he stepped on a toy that squeaked loud enough to startle him from his daze. Just as usual, the room was littered with toys that belonged both to him and his sister. He picked the doll up and smiled down at it. When he pressed his thumbs into the doll’s stomach, it would squeak like a chew toy meant for a dog. Neither of them ever really cared for it, but their dad was bad at choosing toys they would like. Tossing it away, he moved from the bed and out of the room, wandering through the short hall that lead to other rooms. He didn’t bother gazing into any of them, a nagging feeling pulling at the back of his throbbing mind that it wouldn’t do him any good to check inside.

There was one with its door already open. Just when he was about to pass it by, a noise caught his attention, and he paused in the doorway. He glanced inside, seeing a blanket moving on the bed. Immediately, his heart picked up speed, thrumming harshly against his ribs.

Cautiously, on high alert, Jack moved inside the painfully familiar room. As he watched the baby blue blanket move, he felt like something was off. Not just with the blanket, but with everything. He felt like he was watching a movie he’d seen a hundred times before, and suddenly a character was doing something they’d never done before, moving off-script. Still, he moved towards the bed until he was right at the edge, hands shaking as he reached for the blanket. With a flourish, he pulled the blanket from the bed, and met with an empty mattress underneath.

Only, something still wasn't right. Frowning, Jack reached down to feel the mattress, scooping up a pile of black sand lying on the usual off-white sheets Olivia always had on her bed. The sand flowed through his fingers, falling back against the sheets. He felt like there was some importance in it, but before he could even begin to understand, a searing pain shot through him. He felt a scream escape his lungs, but again, no sound came out. The pain was immeasurable, worse than anything he’d ever felt before. His hands went cold and clammy as he collapsed onto the bed, the black sand slipping onto the floor under his weight. As he looked down, he could see the bloodied blade of a sword sticking out from his torso.

His vision blurred, the world spun and fell away, and again, Jack blacked out.

\--

Jack awoke to a room, _his_  room, breathing hard and patting himself down for any swords protruding from his stomach. A layer of sweat had his pajama shirt clinging to his body, making him feel like he was suffocating, being grabbed at by hands that weren’t there. He knew the first pricks of panic were starting to trickle from the very edges of his vision, so he closed his eyes against them, curling his knees up to his chest as he tried to collect his bearings.

Just when he was beginning to calm down, his alarm blared to life on the nightstand next to his bed and nearly gave him a heart attack. He shouted in response, slamming his fist over top of it to get it to quiet down so he could get his heart moving at a normal pace again. Hearing his own voice ringing in his ears was enough to pull him out of his immediate panic. If he could hear himself talk, then he was in the real world, awake, _alive_.

“Pull yourself together, Overland.” He laughed nervously under his breath as he stretched out and scanned the room, paying extra attention to the dark corners that the dim lights overhead didn’t reach. The lights went on automatically each morning in every room when the soldiers were meant to wake up, and turned off each night half an hour after curfew.

When none of the shadows moved or reached out for him, Jack got out of bed. He didn’t bother with a shower since he was already starting to run late for duties. Being a Commander was nice and all, except for him no longer being able to drag his feet or show up late for duty when he had to make sure everyone else showed up for theirs. If anything went wrong, it would all fall on his shoulders, and the last thing he wanted was to be dropped a rank when he finally got one that would give him a say in meetings. That was too important to lose, especially over some stupid nightmare.

The rest of his morning was spent in reflection of how terrible his night went, with Jack constantly nodding off, jumping whenever he heard footsteps approaching behind him, constantly wary of one of the soldiers around him turning into a Fearling and stabbing him through the gut with a sword. He knew it was a ridiculous thing to even consider, but being half asleep most of the time just brought more clarity to the nightmare he had, making the line between dreams and reality a bit thinner than it usual was, than it was meant to be.

"Commander Overland?" A hand on his shoulder had him turning on the enemy that wasn't there. When he'd snapped to, he was holding the wrist of a poor, younger Private First Class tight enough to break it if he chose to. The soldier shouted in alarm, staring up at him with wide eyes that showed more fear than confusion.

With a startled laugh, Jack dropped their hand and took a step back. "Sorry, I, uh, didn't get much sleep last night. Don't take it personally." He rubbed his arm, glancing around the room, feeling more on edge than he knew he was reasonable. Finally, his gaze landed back on the short, blond man standing nervously before him. "What is it, Beeta?"

"It's, uh, time for lunch, sir," Beeta replied, watching him carefully but obviously trying not to make it seem like he was as nervous as he clearly was. "My replacement's here. I need to report in to you before I can go."

Jack nodded distractedly in response, waving a hand. "Yeah, yeah, it's fine, go ahead."

Once Beeta, and the others who were waiting for his permission to leave, left, Jack checked the list and made sure everyone who was supposed to be there showed up. He was relieved to find that they had for each room. Every once in a while, there was someone in sickbay that he didn't get notified about, or someone who accidentally slept in because they forgot to set their alarm, or had some other excuse, but for the most part, it was an easy enough job. Jack got breaks like the rest of them when it was time to eat, so when he was sure everything was in order, he left his clipboard with the Lieutenant meant to replace him and went on his way.

Lieutenants were the only ones aside from Warrant Officers, the Captain, the General, and special cases that were allowed to eat outside of the mess hall. Most of them took over during breakfast, lunch, and dinner for Commanders. It was meant to train them for when they earned their future rank, just with less power and less time involved. Jack didn't care if a _Private_  replaced him as long as they didn't take a hundred years to get their food so he could go enjoy his.

Instead of sitting and enjoying his meal, Jack grabbed a tray of food and snuck his way out of the mess hall, avoiding the prying eyes of Boa watching from the kitchen. As he looked back to see if he was noticed, he caught her gaze, smiled as she narrowed her eyes, and quickened his pace before she could develop the ability to murder him through looks alone. Nobody stopped him to talk or ask any questions on his way up to the quarter deck, to his utmost relief. By the time he reached the General's office, his lids felt heavy, his skin felt itchy; he didn't know whether he felt too tired or too on edge.

When Pitch answered the door, he was met with a smile, but not welcomed inside right away. "Oh, I wasn't expecting you," Pitch explained, hesitating. "Did you need something?"

Jack frowned, finding it hard to keep the dejection from his face. He had a bad night leading up to a bad morning and he wanted to spend the first part of his afternoon with the one person on the airship who brought more comfort to him than any other. Being rejected at the door made his mood drop and sour. "No, I guess not." Still, his tone couldn't conceal its bite. Or maybe he just hadn't bothered to hide it. "If you're so busy, I'll just let you be."

Perplexed, Pitch didn't seem to have a response, so Jack just turned away and moved to leave. He wondered if he could catch a nap in his room before he would have to return to his duties, but he doubted it would be worth it with the little time he had for lunch.

Behind him, he heard a voice call from inside the office. "It's fine, General. I don't mind."

Following came Pitch, albeit sounding a bit put off by Jack's attitude. "Overland, come inside. I have time to talk if there was something you needed."

Although he wasn't too pleased to find out that they wouldn't be alone, Jack wasn't going to complain about what he got, so he gave Pitch an appreciative smile and passed him by into the office. His smile slipped away when he noticed Irra sitting in the chair he usually sat in, a small cup of tea in her hand. She didn't greet him with a smile, but he hadn't expected her to. Just because he was a Commander now didn't mean she treated him much differently than she had before, but he just assumed her sour expression was a default for everybody, so he tried not to take it to heart.

Despite his feelings from before, he suddenly felt like he was intruding and hesitated as he took a seat on the couch. Pitch sat on the end closest to Irra and, without so much as asking, stole a roll from Jack's tray and took a bite from it. When Jack turned a halfhearted glare on him, he merely smiled. "I skipped breakfast, but I assume you don't mind."

"I might have," Jack huffed, although he couldn't keep from smiling in response. He missed his moments alone with Pitch. Although things had settled down a lot, they each had less time to spend with one another. Jack's new duties as a Commander left him with his only free time being during meals and Pitch was still trying to outline a strategy against the shadows before he could put it up for discussion in a meeting, among other things he needed to tend to as General.

He thought he caught Irra rolling her eyes and wanted to make a low-key comment about her and Millie, but decided that it was in his best interest not to.

"I'll be leaving soon," she assured him, a hint of knowing in her tone. "If it's not too private, carry on and ignore me. I only came for the tea anyway."

Pitch raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying my company is worth less than the tea?"

"Hardly a comparison," she quipped. When she smiled, Jack thought he really was starting to see things; it was such a rare sight to behold. She brought the cup to her lips, took a sip, wrinkled her nose. "Although, you're both bitter."

As Jack tried his hardest not to laugh under Pitch's offended glare, he thought it was funny how easy it was to see the history between them. Irra was less uptight, more easy to smile; Pitch was relaxed, more like himself than the man he was when he played the role of a General.

He only realized he was nodding off during his thoughts when Pitch's voice snapped him back to attention. "Would you like some tea, Overland? You look half awake. Did you not get enough rest last night?"

Shaking his head, Jack reached down to take a bite of his sandwich, only to realize halfway through that he was biting a plastic fork with nothing on it, and that they hadn't served sandwiches for lunch that day, but pasta. He stared at it wearily before realizing his mistake and twisting some noodles around the fork and taking an actual bite of food. "Had a long night," he eventually replied. "It's not a big deal though, just a nightmare. Really... _lucid_." He finished with a shrug and took another bite of his lunch. "Kinda put me off my game today."

Pitch looked like he wanted to place a hand on Jack's knee, but he hesitated and kept them on his own lap instead. "Would you care to discuss it?"

Jack looked up at him, at Irra, and then back down at his food. Before he could respond, Irra went ahead. "I understand." She got to her feet and the sincere softness in her expression surprised him. "I'll leave, but before you decide against talking about it, just know that he's helped plenty of others with nightmares of their own. It's an acquired trait from dealing with the monsters we face so often." After saying her piece, she gave Pitch a nod. "Thank you, but there are plenty of things I need to take care of."

"It wasn't an issue," Pitch assured her. He waited until she left before giving Jack his full, undivided attention. "To explain, she of all people would understand the sting of nightmares. She's been poisoned in the past, but she's managed to get through it, which is why she's seen to most of those who were poisoned in the last incident." He sighed and placed his hand on Jack's knee liked he wanted to do before. "The poison is an ugly thing. I've never seen anything like it before coming in contact with the shadows. Even now, years later, she still gets nightmares every so often, and finds comfort in discussing them with me. So if you would like to talk about them, I would be happy to accommodate you."

When Jack had first arrived, he hadn't planned on talking about it with Pitch at all. His whole reason for visiting was the hope that talking with the General would lighten his spirits, help him relax, but now that the option was presented, he didn't think it was such a terrible idea.

"Well, it's not _that_  big of a deal. I haven't been poisoned." He twirled some noodles around his fork and ate it before continuing. "It was just some weird thing, and it felt so realistic. I felt like I was really there. The only off thing was that I couldn't hear myself talk, even if the person I was talking to acted like they could hear me." He shrugged, trying to play it off as casual despite the dream having really bothered him. "It was a replay of that time when I lost my sister, except I passed out before my mom showed up. It went on twice before I woke up in my old house. I think it was supposed to be the day that Jamie came and got me to tell me the Golden Army was on the surface, but instead of it playing out how I remember, there was something in my sister's room, in her bed. I didn't get to see what it was, but it stabbed me, and that's when I woke up."

"That does sound peculiar," Pitch murmured, looking more thoughtful over the description than Jack expected. "Is this the first time you've had it?"

Jack's response was a nod. "I mean, I've dreamed about this before, but not like that. Not as real." He held a hand over his mouth as he yawned, checking the clock on the wall to see how much time he had left for lunch. Seeing that he still had another ten minutes before he would need to leave, he took the opportunity pull his feet up, stretch out, and lay his head on Pitch's lap, letting his eyes slip closed. "I know it's stupid," he went on, "but it really got to me. I keep feeling like something's going to jump out at me. I nearly broke a Private's wrist today when they walked up behind me. I thought they were going to pee themselves."

When he felt Pitch place his hand on his head, he reached up and grabbed it, entwining their fingers and resting them on his stomach instead. "I can't let you do that. If you get me going, I'll never get up."

Pitch chuckled from above him and squeezed his hand in response. "Understood." There was a pause before he found the words to continue. "Your reaction to the dream is entirely reasonable. While some time has passed since the incident, you could still be dealing with a delayed trauma. You went through a lot, Jack. It may not seem like it now, but facing the shadows head on like that can take a lot out of a person, not to mention how close you were to death. It could very well be influencing your dreams."

Jack took a moment to take it in, to consider the explanation, but it didn't make him feel much better. "I suppose," he sighed.

What Pitch said made sense to him, although he wasn't quite happy to consider the fact that the shadows still managed to get some hold on him even without ever actually touching him or getting in his head. If these were the nightmares he was dealing with, he could only wonder what kind of terrors were brought on when they directly infected someone's dreams, not to mention being poisoned. He shuddered at the thought, squeezing Pitch's hand as his only source of comfort. While Pitch praised him for his feats, it only continued to make Jack feel weak. If this was his reaction to not having any direct contact with them, how would he fare with anything worse? He didn't want to imagine it.

The next thing he knew, he was opening his eyes to Pitch plugging his nose, sending a glare up towards mischievous silver as he waved his hand away. Still unwilling to move with the burden of his exhaustion weighing him down, Jack continued to lie there. "What is it?"

"You dozed off," Pitch replied, a smile behind his words. "I thought I should inform you that if you don't leave now, you'll be late for your shift."

Blinking, Jack checked the clock on the wall. Sure enough, ten minutes had passed without his knowing. He didn't even remember dozing off, but now that he had to get up, he wanted to curse the world for ever coming up with schedules. "You know," he groaned as he sat up, "I never would've signed up for the Golden Army if it wasn't for the circumstances." He scrubbed his face and fought back a yawn. "I used to value the days I got to sleep in. This whole 'hard work' thing isn't really my style."

Pitch huffed out an amused laugh, running the backs of his fingers over Jack's cheek before pulling him back for a kiss. They parted much too soon for Jack's liking, so he responded by grabbing the collar of Pitch's shirt and kissing him again, longer this time, as long as he could without losing his breath. As he pulled away and they shared a look, he couldn't help but think that life was funny in the way it worked. The worst thing that could have ever happened to him was the only thing that lead him to that moment, where he could share a kiss with a man who made his heart beat out of his chest, who made his palms sweat and his cheek burn, who he only let go because he had to, not because he wanted to.

"Jack," Pitch started, ushering a reminder with just the tone in which he said his name.

To which Jack groaned, sighed, and rolled his eyes once more like a child being told to go inside before he was finished playing. "Fine, yeah, right, I know. I'm going." He snuck in another kiss that he would _swear_  he meant to make short, but got too swept into, until Pitch pulled him away by the back of his shirt collar and turned him in the other direction. Jack laughed, ducking away on his way out with a cheery goodbye, feeling much better than he had when he'd gone in.

\--

Since Jack was late to breakfast and didn't show up for lunch, he spent his dinner with Jamie, who was glad to see him, but concerned to figure out that he was barely holding himself together.

"You look like hell," he noted as they went to their table. Jack could sit on either side of the mess hall he wanted now that he was Commander, but he preferred the side he was used to, especially since most of the people he talked to were lower ranks.

His response was a yawn as he took his seat and stared down at his plate of food. It was rice and some sort of meat slathered in gravy with blue beans on the side. It didn't look that great, but he was so used to eating the same thing day after day, week after week, that taste was hardly a factor anymore. "Yeah, didn't get a good night's sleep," he said eventually, poking at his food and smearing the gravy around. "I just gotta make it from now to curfew, then I'm solid."

Jamie had already started eating, but he was polite enough to swallow his food before trying to talk. "You look like you're about to drop. Will you be okay? You weren't up all night planning something sneaky, were you? Because you're a Commander now, Overland, you can't keep doing that when there are more people looking up to-"

" _Jamie_. Save the lecture." Jack rolled his eyes and shoved a spoon full of food in his mouth. "Next time I can't sleep, I'll just bring you in to start talking."

As expected, Jamie sent him a sour look. "Whatever. So what was bothering you?"

He shook his head, resting his head on his hand with his elbow up on the table. If there were any upper ranking soldiers on that side seeing him doing it, they would be tempted to snap at him to straighten up, but even if they did, he wasn't a Private First Class anymore and his ability to care had gone down with his alertness. "No, it's not a big deal." He sent Jamie a smile to assure him that he was telling the truth, and the Sergeant seemed to buy it. "As tired as I am, I should sleep like a baby tonight."

"Oh! Right. Off-topic, but I remember there was something I wanted you to know." When Jamie was sure he had Jack's attention, he put on a more serious expression and went on. "Cas got out of quarantine today. Apparently, since he hasn't claimed to see anything or lash out at anyone in a while, he's deemed safe enough to go around the ship again."

Jack thought back to the way Cas was acting just the night before when they'd spoken and frowned, resisting the urge to share what they talked about with Jamie. It wouldn't do any good to bring it up. Instead, he played it casual. "So? What's the point?"

"'What's the point'? You know why I'm bringing it up," Jamie snapped, his tone harsh, but the look on his face as caring as it ever was. "After what you told me, I don't trust him. I think enough time has passed that you should go to the General about what happened. Now that he's released, anything can happen. If you tell General Pitchiner about the incident, he'll put Cas under watch until he can be properly discharged and removed from the ship."

He couldn't deny that Jamie had a point. He didn't want Cas to meet up with D'gell again and get more terrible ideas in his head. He still seemed unstable; not to mention paranoid, even if some of what he'd said made a bit of sense. He hadn't had much time to think about it with the haze he'd spent his day in, but he couldn't deny that he may have been looking at people a little differently than he had before. There were few people he trusted unconditionally, but he was starting to realize that maybe he didn't know his fellow soldiers as well as he thought he did. Any one of them could easily be hiding dangerous secrets. He didn't want to believe that anyone fighting the shadows would want to let them on board the _Nova_ , but Cas got into his head.

"I'll tell the General about it when I get the chance," he replied honestly. "For the time being, I don't think Cas will be a problem. I'm not too worried about it."

Jamie frowned. "You don't think he'll try to attack you again? He could be faking his behavior just to get to you."

Laughing, Jack finished his food and reached for his drink. "You know Jamie, you'll grow worry lines if you keep it up. You already look like you're in your forties."

Scoffing in response, Jamie grabbed his tray and got to his feet. "Fine. Don't say I didn't warn you."

Not wanting to be left on his own, Jack quickly finished his drink and followed Jamie out of the mess hall after dropping off his tray. He caught up with him on his way out the door, falling in step with him as they walked down the corridor. Sniffing the air, then wrinkling his nose, Jamie shot him a sidelong glance. "Did...you shower today?"

Looking away, Jack pursed his lips. "I didn't have the time." He rose his arm up and sniffed himself, frowning as he pulled away. "I don't smell that bad. I'll take a shower tonight before lights out so I won't have to worry about it in the morning."

"Even your hair looks dirty," Jamie said, reaching up to tousle Jack's hair. He started out laughing but when he pulled his hand back he made a sound of disgust. "How do you even get dirt in your hair when you've been on board all day? Has it been that long since you've bathed?"

"Dirt?" Jack leered, looking back at Jamie's outstretched hand. He grabbed it, to the Sergeant's surprise, and squinted, running his thumb over the 'dirt' in question. Eyes widening, Jack released Jamie's hand and ran his fingers through his own hair, breath hitching when he found small, dark specs falling free, coming off on his hand. He stared down at it, wheels turning slowly in his head as he tried to figure out what that was supposed to mean, if it meant anything at all. " _Sand_."

Apparently, he'd spoken too quietly, a revelation only to himself, as Jamie gave him a look of concern. "What's wrong?"

Silently, Jack waved Jamie away, his voice only an interruption to his thoughts. He continued to study the black sand lightly coating his hand. It suddenly made sense that he would have a dream so realistic and disturbing with nothing to prompt it. Something that could so quickly and easily bring his fears to surface was a dangerous thing, but familiar. While he'd never directly dealt with the nightmares before, and only knew what he did through stories, with some saying theirs weren't as bad as other's, Jack knew that the only cause of them were the shadows.

The problem was, there weren't any shadows on board the _Nova_.

As he tested the sand between his fingers, Jack tried to think of when or how the sand could've gotten into his hair, but it didn't make any sense. Any sand left on board after the shadows were taken care of was swept up and carefully disposed of, with some of it put in contamination bins for some higher-ups to inspect in case there was any evidence in it that would give them an advantage over the shadows for next time. Only a very select few people had access to the bins, though, and they were carefully stored away when nobody was using them.

The nightmares only came to him the night before, so he doubted it'd been on him for very long, and the only ones he'd come in contact with before then was- "Cas."

"Cas?" Jamie echoed, reminding Jack that he was still there. "You're spacing out. Are you okay? Is it because you didn't get enough sleep?" When he didn't get a reply, he tentatively touched Jack's shoulder to snap him out of it. "Don't you have to get back to your station? You can make it until curfew, can't you?"

Frowning, Jack stepped away from him. He met with Jamie's concerned gaze silently asking him what was wrong and debated on telling him. In the end, he decided that it would be best to leave him out of it until he could figure out what was going on. Slowly, he forced himself to relax despite the panic in his head, and he nodded in reply. "Yeah. Yeah, I need to get to that." Turning away, Jack tossed a halfhearted wave over his shoulder as he started down the corridor. "I'll see you later."

But Jack didn't return to his station. Instead, he went to the seventh level, practically running down the corridor and nearly storming into Cas's cabin when he arrived, only slowing down when he found it empty with the door unlocked.

Breathing heavily, more on edge than ever before, Jack carefully scanned the room. When he was positive it was empty, he quickly pushed his way further inside, starting with the bed. He yanked all the covers off, including the case on the pillow. When he didn't find anything there, he went to the closet, pulling down the clothes that were hung up, digging through the pockets, sorting through any dirty ones discarded on the floor. Again, he found nothing. As he approached the desk, he paused to analyze the top of it, reaching for a notebook and flipping through it. Most of the pages were blank and the ones that weren't were just pointless scribbles.

Just when he was about to start going through the individual drawers, a voice startled him from behind. "Can I help you, Overland?"

Freezing, Jack swiveled, finding Cas standing on the other side of the room by the door with his arms crossed over his chest and a particularly sour expression on his face. Before he could even open his mouth to answer, Cas gestured angrily at the mess his room was in and spoke above him. "Just what the _hell_  do you think you're doing? Did you really storm into _my_  personal cabin unannounced and start tearing things up? Are you an animal? Holy shit, look at this mess."

"I-" Jack paused, swallowed his words. He scanned the room and realized just how big of a mess he'd really made. The blankets were on the floor, hardly any of the clothes were even in the closet anymore, nonetheless hanging on their respective hangers, and he'd even tossed the notebook to the floor when he was done looking through it.

"You _what_ , Overland?" Cas seethed, baring his teeth. "Was there something you were looking for?"

Again, Jack tried to form an explanation, but when none immediately came to mind, he had to close his mouth again. His initial fury had washed away and now he was stuck standing in the middle of a mess he'd made without so much as a reason why. He tried to think. _Was_  there something he was looking for? He wasn't even sure, honestly. He'd certainly been trying to find something, evidence maybe, but he wasn't sure what, exactly, that would be, or what it would even look like if he actually found anything.

Not one to back down, Jack squared his shoulders and looked back up at Cas, hiding his hesitance. "I found black sand in my hair, the kind the Fearlings were made of when they attacked. Since you were one of the last people I saw before I realized it, I figured you must have had something to do with it."

Cas looked more outraged than offended, but still a mix of the two. "And what makes you believe I would have anything to do with it? I don't know where it came from." He threw his hands up and stomped over to him, crossing the room in just a few, quick steps, until he had Jack leaned up against the desk. "I told you, Overland: there are traitors on board the _Nova_. They're working with the shadows to take us out. This is evidence."

Again, Jack hesitated, unsure of how to respond. He didn't like having Cas so close, especially when he knew how dangerous he could be. "I don't know what it means, Cas." He scooted away from him, finding relief with the more distance they had between each other. "How do I know I can even trust you with this? How do I know _you're_  not the traitor?"

Cas leveled his gaze. "You don't," he evenly replied. It was not the response Jack was looking for. Sighing, Cas went on. "Overland, I used to think you were the biggest idiot I've ever had the misfortune of coming in contact with, but I realized, as time passed, that I was mistaken. You're actually a sneaky little bastard, a genius shit of a person."

At the sudden change in tone, Jack frowned and took another step away. He made sure that he would be able to get to the door if he needed to escape. "What the hell are you talking about? Isn't this about the shadows?"

"It's about _traitors_ ," Cas divulged. "That's what we're discussing. Traitors. You asked if you could trust me, and I said you couldn't, because you can't. And you want to know why?" He narrowed his eyes. "Because I am _against_  traitors."

Before Jack could question what he meant, Cas was walking towards him again. He felt threatened, backing away towards the door. In Jack's silence, Cas went on, jabbing him accusingly in the chest. " _You're_  the traitor, Overland! That's what I've been trying to say! That's why I wanted you to come here yesterday, because I wanted you to know that I knew the truth about you. I wanted you to know that I'm on to you, because I knew you would try to take me out. Isn't that right, Overland? That's what you came here for? Tell me I'm wrong."

Startled and confused, Jack held his hands up in defense as he stopped just before the door. "You're wrong! I came here because _you_  put sand in my hair. That's why you wanted me to come here yesterday. You're lying!"

Cas stopped just short of arms length away. "And how would I have accomplished that when I never even touched you? I never got anywhere near you since then! _You're_  the liar. You're the-"

His eyes widened as he stopped mid-speech, looking past Jack towards the door behind him. Fear reflected in his murky green gaze and it was enough to make Jack lose his passion, enough to even make him look away from his enemy to see what caught his attention.

Just as he turned, claws struck out at him, and shadows leaked out from underneath the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cas, I really don't think you're one to talk when it comes to rudely invading someone else's personal space.
> 
> To answer a question I received so everyone can see: Jack joined the Golden Army when he was only about 19 (Jamie 20), so since it's been 2 (nearly 3 now) years, Jack would currently be 21, Jamie 22. Hey! Maybe a Birthday's coming up! Who knows?


	14. Chapter 14

“Turns out, hell’s not so much a burning, scalding pit of fire and misery. It’s actually much, much worse than that. Hell is when the people you love the most reach right into your soul and rip it out of you. And they do it because they can.”

_—Jess Rothenberg, The Catastrophic History of You and Me_

\--

As the shadows leaked out from the door, Jack and Cas both backed up as far away from them as they could. They were stopped by the wall on the other side of the room and, from what Jack could tell, he was the only one with his sword on him, which he pulled out and leveled in front of him. The shadows formed together at first, a clump of sand that leaked like a broken faucet and dripped to the bottom of their void-like mass, only to be swept back into the ever-shifting, monstrous form. It hardly shrunk as individual Fearlings broke away from it, swords forming in their hands as they chattered amongst each other, ghoulish smiles aimed at their victims as they took their time closing in.

If they chose to attack all at once, the two soldiers would be done for. They were trapped in a small, enclosed area, a room with no windows and the only door being blocked by the enemy. Jack looked for anything he could use as a distraction or a better weapon than his simple sword, but there was nothing. The only way to call about an emergency was by using the mechanism by the door that allowed for people to lock it and unlock it, with the extra setting to announce danger or ask for help. Obviously, neither of which was possible when everything in that direction was blocked off by the undulating mass of shadows before them.

Beside him, Cas grabbed the chair from his desk and pulled it towards him like a shield, although Jack didn’t doubt that he would use it as a weapon when he needed to. Although he knew somewhere deep down that it was _not_  the time to feel pissed off at his only possible ally in the vicinity, Jack couldn’t help but get irked enough to ask, “Where the hell is your sword?”

Cas sent him a look that showed he completely comprehended the accusing tone in Jack’s voice and did not appreciate it one bit. “I just got let out of quarantine today after being locked up like a loon. You really think they let people like me have a weapon so easily?”

He pushed his back against the wall and lifted the chair off the ground as the Fearlings grew closer. The two of them were forced back into the corner and Jack didn’t like having fewer options to reach the door than they already had. Being backed into the corner meant there was a bed between them and the door, but he supposed escape didn’t seem very plausible as it was, anyway.

When a Fearling got too close, before Jack could attack it, Cas moved first with the chair, trying to push the creature back. Without even pausing in its step, the Fearling cut the legs right off the chair, and raised its sword to attack its offender when Cas lifted what was left of the chair up and slammed it down on top of the shadow. The chair broke once it hit the floor with so much strength, but so did the Fearling, and all that was left of it was a pile of sand unable to form again. Both boys shared a look of excitement, but it was short-lived when they realized they’d only taken out one of too many.

With neither of them wearing a uniform, they were both easily susceptible to being poisoned, but Jack did his best to keep the Fearlings approaching them at bay. With Cas, weaponless, standing behind him, he struck out at those who got too close, but none of them seemed too eager to attack and finish their prey. They seemed to enjoy teasing them far too much, wide smiles jumping close and then backing away before they could be destroyed by the blade of Jack’s sword. Some hovered over the bed, truly cornering them until there were no options left but to go down fighting. Unfortunately, just when Jack came to that decision, his sword was knocked from his hand, and even fighting back became a useless endeavor.

In only a matter of minutes, it came down to the two of them standing shoulder-to-shoulder in a corner, completely defenseless against the crowd of shadows that were ready to swarm them at any time.

Before they were attacked, Jack, with his gaze still trained on the enemy, lowered his voice and spoke to the other man standing by his side. “Cas, before we die, I just want you to know that you are the absolute last person I wanted at my side in my death.”

“Looks like we can finally agree on something,” Cas snorted, although it was easy to spot the hint of terror in his tone. His hands were shaking, even as he balled them up in fists and held them up as if they would do anything to save him from the sharpened blades the Fearless held, or the claws that could rip through clothing.

Cas paused, lips drawn in a thin line as he scanned the terrors before them. "I knew something wasn't right." When he saw that he'd drawn Jack's attention, he glared. "Forget it."

Seconds passed.

The two soldiers seemed to realize at nearly the same time that their deaths were being suspended beyond the territory of simple teasing, both of them staring at the small sea of shadows that were close enough to touch them if they tried. There was no reason to hesitate. Neither of them had a weapon, and even if they still did, it would be useless against so many enemies. All the shadows would have to do is reach out with their claws or swords and the two would be done for. They probably wouldn’t even have the chance to scream, to alert anyone of the danger on board.

Actually, Jack thought, that was another curious thing. The emergency lights weren’t going off, there were no announcements of an attack, which meant all the shadows on board had converged on that specific room, and that not a single one of them had gone off to terrorize anyone else, or even alerted anyone to their presence. They weren’t attacking, they stopped closing in. They were just standing there, leading the two Officers to share a look of confusion.

“What’s happening?” Jack asked, knowing better than to let down his guard just because the shadows were acting strange. As far as he knew, it could just be another scare tactic. Make them relax and attack when they think they have nothing to worry about.

Instead of getting an answer, he heard Cas gasp at his side. When he glanced over, the Officer had his eyes narrowed, a wary look on his face. “Why would you be asking me when you’re the one leading them?”

The sudden question caught him off guard. It was almost enough to have Jack turn his head to stare fully at Cas, but he knew it would be more dangerous to look away from the shadows. “We’re both standing here at the mercy of the shadows and you’re still going on about that?”

A Fearling stepped up closer to them and Jack flinched as it lifted its sword. Rather than attack him with it, it merely jabbed him lightly in the stomach. He tried not to remember the too-real sensation of being stabbed in his dream as he looked down at the blade, and then up at the creature. He could feel Cas staring at the two of them with all the suspicion his body could muster, hands at the ready to fight if it came down to it. The last thing Jack needed was an unstable Cas trying to attack him when they were surrounded by shadows.

Puzzled and on-edge, Jack frowned at the Fearling with its sword at his stomach. “What?” Again, it pressed the tip of its sword against him.

He was about to speak again when Cas interrupted. “I think…it’s trying to communicate with you.” He kept his eyes narrowed, constantly looking between Jack and the shadows, as if he wasn’t sure which would attack him first.

“I don’t understand,” Jack told it. He wondered if he’d fallen asleep somewhere and if this whole situation was just another hyper-realistic dream brought on by the nightmare sand. Just because he hadn’t been able to hear himself speak in the other dream didn’t mean they would all be that way. “What do you want?”

With the hand not holding the sword, the Fearling pointed at him. The message couldn’t have been clearer. “You want _me_?”

“You?” Cas breathed, eyes going wide before narrowing again. He went silent, his hands lowering just slightly. Clawed hands made of sand and shadow sunk into Jack’s shoulders—not enough to break the skin, but enough to move him at its will no matter how hard he struggled. Startled, Jack looked to Cas, who made no move to reach out and help him. “They want _you_ ,” he concluded, as if just realizing the situation.

As more hands grabbed onto Jack’s body, pulling at him from his shoulders, to his arms, and wrapping themselves around his torso, he reached out for Cas, hoping for him to grab his hands and pull him back to temporary safety. “Cas! _Help_  me!”

In a swift, dizzying motion, the Fearlings moved all at once, and Jack was pulled over the bed and towards the door, where the shadows had formed a void with their own bodies, one made of both sand and shadow, like a black hole directly from space. As he looked back at it, his heart stopped. He froze, no longer having the strength to fight past his fear of being consumed by the darkness. The shadows would have their way.

As he turned his head back one last time, he met with Cas’s murky green gaze and dared to plead once more. “Help me.”

Rather than reply, Cas smiled, and that was the last thing Jack saw before falling into darkness.

\--

Time was a mystery, but then again, so was everything else.

When Jack came to, he was dazed and confused, head heavy and body stiff. He felt like a leaf thrown out to tumble in the wind during a storm, with all his limbs refusing to work properly. Even as he tried to make sense of his surroundings, his eyes threatened to close, and his mind tried to soothe him back to sleep, but he couldn't allow it, not when his memories started to return. The spark of panic that started in his chest rose like a fire, burning up to his throat like bile, like a scream, but neither came forth as he barely managed to hold himself together.

It was too dark to see. Not the kind of absolute darkness that came with being surrounded by the shadows, but a simple, thin veil of darkness that coated the area that made it impossible for him to see at the time. Underneath him was something that felt like a bed, a mattress much like his own, and a small, hesitant voice in the back of his head made him wonder if he'd just dreamt it all, or if he was dreaming now. It was frustrating not being able to tell what was real or not, whether he was in his own room back on the _Nova_  or if he was somewhere else entirely.

Eyes darting about the darkness as if they might be able to capture any signs of movement, Jack slowly pushed his heavy legs over the side of the bed, fingers scratching against the mattress. He didn't move any further for a few more minutes, trying to figure everything out in the possibly brief time of peace that he had.

Reaching down, Jack knocked his knuckles against the ground under his feet. It was thick and solid, a bit like stone or concrete; much different than the floors on the airship, which were thin and hollow, made of metal that separated each floor. It was an easy sign that he wasn't on the _Nova_  any longer. Whether or not he was dreaming was still up to debate, but it certainly felt more real than anything else had when it'd gone on in his head. Patting himself down, Jack was relieved to find that he was still clothed and couldn't find any signs of scratch marks, or any injuries for that matter. He wouldn't have to deal with the delusions on top of everything else. Unfortunately, he was still without his sword, or even a uniform, and that meant he wouldn't have the chance to let down his guard.

Rising to his feet, Jack followed the outline of the bed, which, to his relief, lead him to a wall. Blindly, he continued to follow the cold, rough surface of the wall, desperately hoping that he wouldn't accidentally walk off a cliff or into a trap. The area was silent aside from the quick beating of his heart, which pulsed against his ears like drums so loudly that he was almost surprised that he couldn't hear his heartbeat echoing off the walls around him. Every step forward was slow and cautious, his eyes open wide in the hopes that he would at least be able to see the danger before it came.

After only a minute or two of walking, Jack noticed a difference in lighting up ahead, not too far off. While it certainly wasn't a light at the end of a tunnel, he had nothing else to reach for, so he moved slowly towards it.

As he neared the slight difference in light, he realized that he was standing under a large structure, an archway leading him from the overly dark room into the one that appeared draped in something akin to moonlight on a starless night. While the new area was still dark, it wasn't nearly as dark as the one he'd left. His eyes had adjusted enough to let him make out the vaguest of things in his surroundings, such as pillars that reached for a sky or a ceiling he couldn't see, tall windows, rounded at the top, with curtains that seemed to be made of a thick, black velvet. That was where the moonlight came from. The floors, just as he'd assumed, were made of solid stone, perhaps marble. If he crouched down, he could almost see his reflection.

From the invisible ceiling hung a chandelier with crystals that reflected against the moonlight, twinkling softly. The silvery light they spread was hardly enough to break the overall darkness of the chamber. The walls were spread out wide, with arches dividing each room. Dust floated in the light from the windows.

All at once, Jack felt very lonely.

Before he could take another step more, there was movement in the corner of his eyes, but when he swiveled to see what it was, nothing was there. Again, he saw the slightest, silky movement of some _thing_  or some _one_  moving along the wall, or just amongst the shadows that surrounded him, but whenever he turned to see, it would always be gone. It constantly teased the very edges of his vision, appearing on the walls, against the windows, until he followed it out of the room and into a long corridor that stretched further than he could tell. Still, the vague formation of shadow glided smoothly down the hall, and with nothing else to lead him along, Jack followed after it.

It didn't move so quickly that he couldn't keep up with it, but it constantly remained just out of reach, too far away for him to tell if it was a form, or a Fearling. Jack knew he could've been following this thing right into a trap, but he felt like he had no other choice. Otherwise, he would be wandering aimlessly to find a way out. At least with this he had the slightest hope that if he ever caught it, it would give him answers, or at least lead him to some.

"Stop!" he shouted, nearly out of breath as he chased it through a third room and into another corridor. At the beginning, he considered keeping track, but each room was so similar to the last, and the halls were so winding, that he quickly deemed it impossible. Even if he could find his way back to the beginning, it wasn't like there was anything there for him anyway. It would be best to keep moving forward.

Once he reached another wide-open room, he realized he'd lost track of the shadow. Stopping under the chandelier, Jack turned every which way, eyes scanning the walls and windows for any sign of the thing that'd lead him there.

Something tugged at his pant leg and he yelped, jumping away from the hands reaching out at him from the stone floor. He backed all the way into a empty man made of armor, jumping again when the head rolled off and hit the floor with a noise louder than he was used to after so long. The sound echoed off the walls, through each room, and came back to him as the shadows underfoot formed up from the floor and shot out at him. He dodged their claws, ducking as one flew overhead and smashed into sand against the wall behind him. He danced away from every Fearling that came his way until he bumped into something that felt much larger, standing under the archway between two rooms. Hands were laid on his shoulders, hardly there if it weren't for the fact that he could see them; gray and thin, with nails that could dig under his skin if their owner had a right mind to.

Pulling away from whatever it was he'd bumped into, Jack spun on the creature, hoping to finally see it for what it was, but it disappeared on him again.

"Come out!" he shouted, voice ringing in his own ears. The Fearlings around him had all fallen to sand. He stepped in it as he paced the room, calling for the creature to return. "I saw you! Are you a Fearling? Or a Nightmare Man?" Neither description felt quite true, but he didn't know what else it could be. His heart raced, his hands shook at his sides. He tried not to let himself panic. "Stop hiding from me and show yourself! I'm tired of playing games!"

Finally, a voice rang back to him. "Games? I thought you loved games, Jackson."

At the sound of his name, Jack froze, his breath hitched in his throat. His blood ran cold and the hair on the nape of his neck rose on end as he tried to find the source of the voice in the unrelenting darkness. The moonlight spilling in through the windows only splashed more shadows on the walls and in the corners. His hands opened and closed at his sides, itching to defend himself from any sudden attack.

"How do you know my name?" His voice came out shakier than he hoped it would, almost surprising himself. Biting his tongue, he let out a breath and tried again. "Who are you?"

"Oh, dear boy," the voice cooed, "I'm disappointed in you. Don't you recognize me? Not even by the sound of my voice?"

Before he could even think of a response, the shadow formed in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. His blood ran colder than ever as the figure stood before him, their appearance bathed by the milky light of the moon behind the window. He could see every detail of the shadow, of the _woman_ , too clearly, from her ashen gray skin, to the short ebony hair that framed her face with an edge as sharp as a knife, and even what she wore--a thin gown that stuck to her form like ink spilled on paper, her large, willowy sleeves looking as if they melted into shadows themselves. She was the true form of any shadow Jack had ever seen, yet he couldn't take his eyes off her own, soothing orbs of copper speckled with silver.

When she smiled, he thought his heart stopped beating. "Have I really changed that much?"

Words stuck to his throat like glue. He felt ice in his veins, stabbing shards into his heart so painful that he almost thought he was being attacked, but when he rose his stiff hand to his chest, nothing was there. His heart was still beating as it ever was, but it felt like it shouldn't be.

It took an eternity, but he finally found the strength to speak. "Mom?"

It was her eyes that drew him in, but her smile was the thing that kept his gaze on her. She gave a nod, fingers brushing his forehead, cupping his cheek and tilting his head from side to side. "That's right, Jack. It's me," she replied, and her voice was the same as ever. But aside from her eyes and her smile, she didn't look like herself. The mother Jack recalled was warm and bright, but this woman standing before him was cold and dark. Where her hands touched, goosebumps rose on his skin.

He shivered when she raked her fingers through his hair. He told himself he should move, to back away, because this couldn't be his mother, but his feet remained. Everything he'd felt since that night when his sister was taken, and his father died, and his mother left him on his own was swelling up inside of him like a wave reaching towards the moon, threatening to drown him and pull him under. Breath escaped him and acid filled his throat until he couldn't even bring himself to speak. His eyes welled up with tears, with the water that filled his lungs, and once they started to fall, he didn't know how to make them stop.

When she pulled him into a hug, he crumpled in her arms, gripping the material of her gown as if he was afraid to be left alone again. He didn't understand what was happening, how he got there, why she was there with him and with the appearance she had, but his thoughts were too muddled to comprehend, so he stood there and continued to cry in her arms. She smoothed his hair out, humming lowly under her silky breath in a way that made his heart hurt because it'd been so long since he'd last heard her voice. It didn't matter if it all turned out to be a dream. Jack thought he would be happy to never wake up.

In her arms, he wasn't Commander Jackson Overland, soldier of the Golden Army; he was just Jack, scared, lonely, little Jack, who wanted his mother's comfort more than anything else in the world.

Jack never wanted to pull away, but once his tears started to dry, reality started to dawn on him, and he knew there were questions that needed answering. Sniffing wetly, he gently pushed away from her, using the sleeves of his shirt to wipe the tears from his cheeks. He was sure he looked like a mess, but it didn't bother him so much to appear that way in front of his own mother. She'd seen him in much worse conditions.

Standing back, he took in her appearance again, shaking his head. "I don't understand," he murmured. His voice was quiet, but in the silence of the room, every word was clear.

When he turned his gaze up to hers for answers, her expression softened. "I should explain," she started, glancing away and scratching her palm, as if the walls would better help her recollect her story. As she spoke, she paced circles around the room, and suddenly Jack felt less like a son talking with his mother and more like prey being stalked by a predator. "When I went out on my own to search for the shadows that took my Olivia away, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. It was me facing an army of beings destructive enough to take over entire moons and planets, but you know as well as I do that I wasn't exactly rational at the time. With your father gone, losing Olivia was the straw that broke me."

She paused in her pacing to look at him, brow creased. "I took it out on you. I'm sorry." She neared him and he stiffened when she reached forwards. When she noticed how uneasy he was, she frowned and dropped her hand back to her side. "I should have been grateful that I at least had you left. I loved you just as much as I did the two of them. I still do."

With a sigh, she turned away from him again, curling her hands behind her back. Her movements around the room were slow, languid; the part of her gown that dropped past her feet and spread over the floor behind her looked like it was apart of the shadows, moving along with her. "But it's too late for that." She rolled her hand in the air in front of her. "When I went out to search for the shadows, I ended up coming across something else instead. My schooner was low on fuel, I had no food, no water, and no idea where I was among the stars. I thought the gravity would fail and I would be left to float aimlessly until I died, but just when I thought there was nothing left for me to do, I was passed by a shooting star." She smiled briefly. "And I made a wish to be saved."

Jack's eyes widened at the story. Shooting stars were so rare, especially in the Constellation where he'd lived. Nobody he knew had ever actually seen one, although Jamie claimed to have one night when he was younger, the night before he and Jack met. Nobody ever believed him even if he swore it up and down. They were rumored to grant any single wish by anyone who happened to see them, but magic like that was something out of fiction, and not something Jack ever allowed himself to believe. Even if shooting stars were real, he doubted they could ever grant anyone's wish.

His mother must have seen his skepticism because she laughed quietly under her breath. "Oh, Jack, always the skeptic. Just like your father. It took too much solidarity to get either of you to believe in anything, but I promise you, this is true. The shooting star granted my wish and saved my life. He pulled me to safety inside his ship, gave me water, and food, and a place to rest until I got my strength back."

"'He'?" Jack repeated. "The shooting star is a 'he'?"

She started to nod, paused to consider, and ended up shrugging instead. "Or, at least, it seems to be. I could be assuming. I haven't seen any tell-tale signs, honestly."

He made a face at that. The last thing he wanted to hear was his mother talking about the genitals of a shooting star. "Okay, okay, nevermind. So, that still doesn't explain," he gestured to her, " _this_. What is all this? What happened to you?"

"Well," she continued, "when I told the star about my mission, he was so worried for my well-being that he agreed to help me seek out the shadows so I wouldn't have to face them alone. It wasn't long after that that we found them, somewhere in the Lyra Constellation." She sighed a second time, eyes cast down towards the shadows at her feet. "I didn't know what I was getting us into, Jack. When we found them, it was already too late to turn back. They attacked the poor man's ship and while he fought the best he could with the strange powers that he had, it wasn't nearly enough to face an army. However, rather than kill us, the strangest thing happened."

She stopped again to face him, smile wide on her lips. While it was once soft, it suddenly felt unnerving, and Jack was ashamed that he wished he had something to defend himself with when this was his _mother_ , a woman who had never once harmed him intentionally.

"Rather than kill us," she went on, an almost cheery lilt to her tone, "they took me over. They filled my head with their screams, my body with their terrors, and- and it was the most terrifying thing I've ever gone through." Her voice wavered for a moment and Jack thought he could almost see the mother he once knew rise to the surface before being swallowed again. "I became apart of them, infected by their essence, the being of shadows you see now."

It was all a lot to take in and Jack still wasn't sure if he could believe what she was saying, even if the proof was right before his eyes. "Mom, you-"

"I'm not your mother!" Her voice roared so loudly that it echoed down the halls. It was so sudden, the tone full of so much malice that Jack felt fear at the very core of his being, sending tremors down his spine. When she realized his reaction, she composed herself, although her tone was harsher than he remembered. It was too dark to suit her; it sounded off and unsettling and he wasn't sure what to do about the terror it struck through him. "I'm not your mother, Jack. I'm not her anymore. I've _done_  things, Jackson, things that were never even a thought in my mind before, things I never would've considered in my darkest moments. These- these _things_  fill my head and control my actions and I- I'm not myself anymore. I'm not her. I'm not the mother you once knew."

In Jack's silence, she went on, voice laced thick with melancholy. "They thought it would be a good idea to bring you here. When I found out it was _you_  who stopped the attack on the Golden Army before, I was both proud and terrified, because I knew they wouldn't want to let that go. They would want their revenge, and so they brought you here."

Jack opened his mouth and snapped it shut before he could say anything as the wheels turned slowly in his head. He felt like he was trying to put together a puzzle while blindfolded. He knew which pieces fit, but he didn't want to see them as they slipped into place. He didn't want to believe. So again, he spouted, "I-I don't understand."

She turned on him, eyes lit up like silver on fire. " _You_  are the cause of my failure and I can't let you go, Jackson. I sent those shadows to that airship because I knew the Golden Army would be on it, and they've hindered me every step of the way, especially that Kozmotis Pitchiner. He's spent too long fighting back against the shadows, and the shadows are mine now, so I can't let him continue. He doesn't understand what they're here for." At Jack's quizzical expression, she sighed. "The cosmos is made up of darkness, of black holes that lead to nothing. Everything started with shadows, Jack. _Everything_. Before there were stars, before there were people, before there was space or time, there was darkness, and that's where the shadows came from. When everything came into being, they lost what once belonged to them, and they want it back."

She grabbed Jack by the front of his shirt and lifted him with a strength he didn't know she had. Her eyes shot daggers through his own, petrifying him in her grip. "And I will stop _anyone_  who gets in our way." In the next moment, she let him go and he dropped to the hard ground on his back, staring as she sneered down at him. "For the sport of it, I'll give you a chance to run."

Jack didn't need another warning. He was up and on his feet in a matter of seconds, racing out of the room from the shadows that he knew would be following close behind. The entire place was made of shadow. They could form out of anywhere, from the dusty corners, from the glossy curtains, even from the ground under his feet. He knew it was just like his mother said: a game for them to play as he ran around in circles until his legs would no longer move him forward, but he couldn't stand his ground when it was so obvious who would lose. He could be rash, but he wasn't stupid.

The halls were all the same and the rooms either lead to other rooms or were dead ends. He could see the shadows racing him on the walls, smiles full of empty humor at his expense. Every so often, his mother's laughter would ring in his head, reminding him that she was his mother no more. He'd cried in the arms of a stranger.

He heard the swing of the sword before he felt it, but he wasn't quick enough to react before the blade of a Fearling's sword was digging through the wound he'd already had in his back, crossing over it and bringing fresh blood to the surface. Surprised by the sudden attack, Jack stumbled, caught himself, and continued to run, chest heaving and legs ready to give out on him. The wound stung, but he hoped it wouldn't be enough to become a concern. His thoughts raced on overdrive, pushing his immediate despair over his mother's betrayal aside so he focus on simply surviving the predicament he'd fallen into.

Dodging the sword of another Fearling, Jack nearly froze when he saw two tall doors up ahead of him. They were the first set of doors he'd seen in the entire place, as dark and looming as the rest of the interior, with designs too intricate for him to focus on carved into their black painted wood. He worried they wouldn't open, but he knew, with the shadows hot on his heels, that he couldn't afford to stop, so as he neared the doors, he put his arms out in front and hoped for at least one lucky break from the nightmare he was in.

His luck was granted to him and the doors flew open with his weight. However, they were enough to stunt his movements, and another sword dug into his calf. This time, when he fell to the ground, he didn't get back up right away. Turning, he barely managed to avoid being decapitated as a sword swung past his face. Even as he scooted further and further away from the shadows, who moved slowly only to taunt him, he knew things looked bleak. He'd faced death so often in such a short amount of time and while the shadows were the direct cause, he felt like his mother was to blame. She'd been the one to construct the attack on the airship, she was the one who lead the General away from the ship, who ordered the Fearlings to attack. It was her fault Captain Dervish had died, her fault her son nearly froze to death, _her_  fault that he was backed up against the wall with death at the ready yet again.

As a sword raised above his head, Jack closed his eyes and waited for it come back down.

When it never did, when too much time passed where nothing happened, Jack dared to open his eyes again, blinking against the backdrop of a gray darkness. The shadows standing in front of him disappeared, their chilling grins still imprinted on his mind long after they were gone. In their absence came his mother's voice, her words sewn with silk and honey despite the malice that tainted them. "Oh, Jackson, dear, did you really think I would have you killed? Don't you trust your mother?"

She appeared before him, a form too close to the shadows themselves. He wanted to be as far away from her as possible, but as she leaned down and drew her hand near him, he had no strength to move away any further. Instead, when he could feel her icy hands on him, he smacked them away, glowering at her.

"You were right when you said you weren't my mother," he spat, building walls around his fragile heart so it would have somewhere to go when it finally fell apart. She had his mother's eyes, her smile, her voice, but nothing more. "Get away from me."

She didn't seem at all phased by the bite in his tone, smiling and rolling her eyes as if simply dealing with a child having a tantrum. "It was just another game, Jackson. It's been so long since we've played together."

"A game?" he breathed, eyes wide in outrage and disbelief. The lull in his panic reminded him of his wounds and the pain made him grit his teeth before he could continue. "They could have _killed_  me and you're calling this a game?"

Her lips pursed in what he could only describe as a pout. She blew out of her mouth as if his attitude was deflating. "Really, when did my son get so dull? You used to be all about fun and games and now you're all...," she gestured to him with a look of petulance, " _this_. Was it that Kozmotis who drained it out of you? It only gives me more of a reason to have his head."

He shook his head. "Why didn't you kill me, then?"

At first, she only stared at him, as if she couldn't believe he could ask such a thing, but slowly, her expression changed to something akin to softness, outlined with daggers and glass. "I didn't have them bring you here to kill you, sweetie. I had you brought here to get you out of my way. While you're here, you can't do anything to stop me from destroying the Golden Army, or killing that man." She rose to her feet and motioned to the room they were in. It was larger than most of the others, but still just as plain, just as dark. There were statues all around, some broken, some still in tact. "In the meantime, you'll stay here with me. When I'm not working, we'll have all the fun you want. Maybe one day you can even stand by my side in this war."

"I don't want to stay here," he retorted. "I don't want to be here with you and I will never want to fight on your side, as long as you stand by the shadows." He tried to get up, faltered, and fell again, breathing heavily as pain shot through his back and up his leg. He didn't try again after that. "I want to go back to the _Nova_. I want you to take me back."

"So you can fight against me?" she scoffed. "Jackson, you'll learn to like it here. I know as well as you do that you missed me. We can finally be together again, mother and son."

"You're _not_ my-"

"And Olivia!"

His heart froze. "Olivia?"

When she saw that she had his attention, her silvery eyes gleamed with excitement. She nodded, thin lips pulled tight in a smile. "Your sister, Olivia. Remember, the shadows took her? The Fearlings? That was the loss that drove me to find them in the first place. I hoped to get her back. Didn't you want the same thing?"

He looked up and met her gaze, knowing there was something she was hiding, but the idea of finally seeing Olivia again after all the time he'd spent searching for her was nearly enough to soothe his aching heart. If he could hold her in his arms again, tell her how sorry he was for ever letting her go, promise to never let her down again, everything would be alright. That was all he ever wanted: to see Olivia again.

Without the ability to say no, he gave his mother an almost desperate nod. "Where is she?"

Her smile clipped and she waved an arm, her dark-cloaked sleeves dragging along the stone floor. When she moved her arm back to her side, something stood beside her, and Jack could only stare in silence.

"A Fearling," he quavered.

"Olivia," his mother replied.

When she pushed the Fearling forward, Jack stilled as it approached him. He thought he couldn't breathe, felt the all-encompassing walls of panic beginning to fill in his line of vision, and the walls around his heart squeeze in too tightly for comfort to the point that it felt like it might burst from the strain. The pain in his back and leg was suddenly just a dull throb behind the numbness that overtook him, that gripped his very soul and rang through his mind like droplets on a pond as he continued to stare at this creature, this shadow, this...

It looked like any other. Its ethereal body would have been see-through if not for the black sand that looked as if it was just barely holding its form together, its limbs were scraggly and its eyes were hollow, devoid of life or light or any essence of the sister his mother claimed it to be. He saw nothing of Olivia in that creature, and the longer he stared at it, the angrier he felt. His blood boiled through the ice in his veins and he had the greatest urge to destroy it, to do anything he could to remove this lie from his sight.

When he reached out with the intention of ridding it of its terrible existence, it spoke, and its voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Jack," was all it said. It was all it needed to say.

Jack's arms dropped back to his sides, limp like the rest of him. "Olivia," he trembled, eyes wide and body shaking.

He didn't realize he was crying until he felt his eyes starting to burn. Still, he made no move to wipe them away as he continued to stare at this creature that mimicked the sound of his sister's voice as perfectly as he remembered it being with only the uttering of his name. He didn't want to believe that this _thing_  was his sister. He almost couldn't believe it at all. He almost rose to his feet despite his wounds with the intentions of running away from everything that was happening, because it was happening too fast and all at once and- He couldn't believe.

But he wanted to.

He _wanted_  to believe that this Fearling was his sister. He wanted it to be true with all his heart and soul. He wanted it to be her because if it wasn't, then he knew that meant she was dead, and that wasn't something he could handle. He would lose his grip. He would lose the threads that were barely managing to hold him together as it was. His father was dead, his mother was no longer, and all he had left to hold onto was his sister.

His sister, who stood before him. _This_ , he told himself, _this is my sister._

Through his tears, Jack smiled. "Olivia."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, and I thought Cas was straight out the crazy factory, but then again, I guess getting possessed by a disastrous amount of dark, evil beings will do that to you. I mean, look how well it worked out for Pitch, right? Poor guy.
> 
> Thank you for your comments and kudos!! I appreciate every single one and I will from now until the end of time! 100 kudos was my ultimate goal and now that I've reached it, I'm happier than I could ever be, so thank you so much to everyone reading along!


	15. Chapter 15

“The feelings that hurt most, the emotions that sting most, are those that are absurd - The longing for impossible things, precisely because they are impossible; nostalgia for what never was; the desire for what could have been; regret over not being someone else; dissatisfaction with the world’s existence. All these half-tones of the soul’s consciousness create in us a painful landscape, an eternal sunset of what we are.”

_—Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet_

\--

With only the most limited options, Jack decided to stay.

It was impossible to tell how much time passed while he was away from the airship. The clocks on the _Nova_  were intricately designed to go by the same time as they were all used to on their respective moons and planets, despite time working differently in space. That way, nobody would ever lose track of the days during their travels and they could all be kept on a strict schedule. The lair his mother had constructed was void of any time-telling devices. Time never seemed to change there, anyway. The sun never came out; it was always dark whenever he looked outside the windows. The majority of light came from what he originally assumed was moonlight pooling in through the large panes of glass, but when he had the chance to look out of them, he couldn’t see a moon anywhere in the sky. No moon, no stars, just darkness and an artificial glow without a visible source.

The halls were long and some were winding, but they were rarely any different. Originally, Jack thought it might be easy to get lost, but whenever it seemed like he’d taken too many turns to ever find his way back, he ended up where he started out, which was usually his room. It seemed as though the lair was designed in a way that could both force someone to lose their way all too easily, and also lead them back around in a circle. How it worked was a concept impossible for Jack to grasp.

He’d taken to marking the walls and floors with a white piece of chalk, but that was useless in helping him figure the place out. He could go off in any direction he pleased and still find the room with the chalk marking. After a while, he gave up trying to decode its mysteries and ended up making a game out of it, marking a room and seeing how long it would take to return to it, or how many twists and turns he could take before ended up there again.

His mother wasn’t around very often, which he had to admit was a relief. She put him on edge whenever she came by, always circling him in the shadows like a beast stalking its prey. Even when she wasn’t around, he felt like he was constantly waiting for her to attack. She’d helped bandage up the wounds that she was the indirect cause of, but there were still times when she sent the shadows after him. They stopped attacking him with swords, but blocking their claws was a whole new terror. Their swords could cause flesh wounds, things that would probably heal if properly taken care of, but no chances could be taken with their claws. A single scratch would have him spiraling into a world of both waking and sleeping nightmares.

Whenever he confronted her about it, she would call it a game, and tell him how disappointed she was to see how boring he’d gotten in their time apart. Her recollections on the past always made Jack wonder how much of his mother was really left inside the tomb of shadows formed around her. She seemed to remember some events quite clearly, like the times she would move the nests of snow rabbits around their house so she could convince him to go inside, or when she would help him with his schoolwork, but on the drop of a dime, she would go on wild tangents about the deaths of everyone in existence, and send shadows after him to the point where each time was a question of whether or not she would allow them to kill him.

Her mental state was deteriorating. Sometimes, she was as sweet as the mother he once knew, but whenever he slipped up and called her “mom” in those moments, she would screech at him in a fit of hysterical rage. “No mother would want to harm her child,” she once said. And when she looked at him, he felt both pity and fear, because he could see the turmoil behind her silvery gaze. “These thoughts should not be mine, but I would be wrong to say they aren’t.”

At another time, she’d wandered into his room and sat herself at the edge of his bed. He’d awoken to her sobbing into her hands and the sight of it was almost enough to bring tears to his own eyes, because he had never honestly seen his mother cry except for two other times before, and neither memory was something he wanted to have. When he asked her what was wrong, she only looked away from him. She was silent for so long that he almost thought it was some sort of trick, another game she came up with for them to play, but in the end, she’d sighed, and the grief on her face looked to be carved straight into her bones.

“I don’t want these terrors in my head,” she wept, drawing her hands up to either side of her head and pushing against it as if it would close out the thoughts that were trying to consume her. “I feel filthy, like I’ve been filled with a sort of waste that can’t be cleaned out with any amount of baths or rituals. I could scrub my skin raw and it wouldn’t wash the _rot_  out of me.” Slowly, she dropped her hands from her head and drew them into her sides. She looked smaller, somehow, older and younger at the same time. “Jack, these things that come to mind, these are _my_  thoughts. To deny them would be to deny my own sins, to deny my own being, whatever it is I’ve become.”

Jack swallowed around a building knot in his throat. When he first set out to find his mother, he never knew what he might come across. He would rarely allow himself to believe that he would ever see her again, but those nights he spent torturing himself with the unlikely scenario of them seeing each other again were never like this. It was always him standing across from her and begging forgiveness for letting her down as her son, as her daughter’s brother. It was always him trying to repent for every mistake he’d made in his past. Sometimes, she would grant him the peace of mind he thrived for; sometimes, she wouldn’t, and he would find a way to accept that.

And still, he thought, this was worse than any worst case scenario.

In Jack’s silence, his mother reached over to brush the bangs out of his eyes. However, when he noticed her drawing near, he flinched away from her touch. The look in her eyes pained him to his very core, but he knew he couldn’t trust her. “You’re right to act that way, Jack,” she sighed, bringing her hand back to her side. “There’s a part of me that registers these thoughts that come to mind, these _horrible_  thoughts, and fears how devastatingly awful they are, but at the same time, I know that they are what I want.”

Hesitant and unnerved, Jack shook his head. “It’s not you. It’s the shadows’ influence on you. They’ve infected you.” He frowned and wanted to reach out to her, to offer some semblance of comfort, but he was afraid. “I know who you are and you aren’t like this.”

She gave him a weary smile. “I’m not that person anymore, Jack.”

“But you could be,” he insisted. A desperation he’d been trying so avidly to ignore ever since he’d saw what she’d become came rising to the surface like a vomit he couldn’t swallow down. “You sitting here talking to me like this just proves that you’re still you. Maybe if we keep talking, or try harder, or do _something_ , we can bring you back to normal. If- If, we got the shadows out of you, you could be you again.”

She turned to meet his watery gaze. The smile had fallen from her lips. “There is no cure for this poison, Jack. Once the shadows are inside of you, there is only one way to get them to leave.”

He stared in silence, lips quivering as he tried to fight back the tears that came when he knew what she meant. Everything in him wanted to _deny_. He wanted to deny that his mother was gone, that this woman of darkness could not be the caretaker he’d loved for so long. His eyes told him that she sat right there in front of him, that if he could reach out and touch her, it meant she was real, but he knew, somewhere not as deep as he’d like it to be, that this was something that went beyond vision. She was tainted at her very core. Even if she could be released from the hold the shadows had on her, she would never be who he wanted her to be, not in their lifetime.

Still, he squared his jaw and grabbed her icy hands with his own, shaking ones. “I’ll find another way.”

She gave him a smile and, to his distress, faded into the shadows.

\--

The time Jack spent with Olivia was the hardest. He tried, he really did, to believe that the scraggly creature of darkness was his little sister, and that somewhere deep, _deep_  down inside, she was in there, staring back at him, but it was a hard thing to do.

She was silent, mostly--not at all the energetic chatterbox he'd grown up with. One of his favorite pastimes spent with her when they were younger was listening to her go on and on about her day, stories she'd read, people she'd met, things she'd experienced. He could've listened to her talk for hours. He did, too. Lots of times. But _this_  Olivia had a clipped tone, her words just as short as they were few. She sounded robotic more often than not, as if her voice was just playing back as a recording. Sometimes Jack wondered if that was true, but he never let those thoughts linger for very long. He wasn't very fond of what the truth might be, or what it might mean to accept it.

She wasn't always around and he didn't know where she went when she was gone, but she would appear to him at random. It was hard to tell when it was her and when it was something else, and the amount of times he'd nearly been clawed in the face from getting too close to a hostile Fearling was starting to get too high for his comfort. He was anxious when she wasn't by his side, especially when they were playing games. She would play hide-and-seek with him, which was hard with all the winding halls the lair had, but he would always follow the sound of her giggling until he would finally find where she was hiding.

He couldn't lift her up, couldn't touch her, and that was hard in itself. Despite her appearance, Jack ached to pull her into his arms and hug her, not just for her sake but for his own. Instead, there was an invisible line drawn between them at all times. His mother warned him not to touch her, as her form was just as fragile as any other being of shadow, and she would dissolve into the sand she was made of. He didn't think she would fall apart so easily, but he didn't want to risk it. He couldn't bare the idea of losing her again, not when he'd finally managed to get her back.

Sometimes, Olivia wouldn't do anything at all. She would stare at a wall, unresponsive to his voice or his hand waving in front of her face. Her hollowed-out eyes wouldn't meet with his own. Those instances could last as short as a handful of seconds to as long as hours. Most of the time, he would sit next to her and talk as if she could hear him, recounting his tales as a soldier in the Golden Army, the mischief he'd gotten up to, how Jamie was doing and how he would love to see her again, all the times he'd thought of her. _"Every single day."_

Jack had nightmares every time he slept. Some were simple shock-factors that would leave his heart racing and sweat on his brow when he'd shoot straight up in bed, but others were worse than that, hitting closer to home than any others. He would wake up with a sickening feeling of dread pooled in the pit of his stomach and he would go about his day like walking through mollasses, or quick sand, stuck and sinking without so much as a branch to pull his way out.

He would always find the nightmare sand in his hair when he woke up, which quickly made him realize that the shadows no longer needed to be physically present to incite their terrible, lucid nightmares. They just had to drop a dusting of it over his head and when he slept, it worked just the same. He supposed it didn't really matter that he figured it out, though. There was still no telling where the sand even came from in the first place or why or how they were able to fuse it to their forms and use it with their powers. At first he thought it may have had something to do with them controlling his mother, but that thought lead nowhere in the end. It didn't make any sense.

While it was hard to tell how much time was passing, Jack felt his spirit fading between the times he slept and the times he was awake. Besides the boredom, he was sleep deprived, anxious, constantly waiting for the shadows to sneak up on him and chase him through the long, winding corridors until disappearing again, or for his mother to appear before him, either sad and mournful over the self she could never be again, or cold and cruel with the shadows at her disposal. Being around the Fearling he wanted to call his sister was more than distressing in itself when she didn't even have eyes he could search through to find at least a little bit of herself left inside. She could've been a lie formed by his mother's cruel attempt to get him to stay there with her without any complaints, but he didn't want to believe that.

There was a point when he thought someone might come to his rescue, but even if anyone was looking, he doubted there was any way they could find him. He didn't even know where he was. Any doors just lead to more rooms, never an exit. The windows were so high up that he couldn't see the ground when he looked out of them even though he'd never seen any stairs, so he doubted making an escape that way would ever be an option. The only way he could imagine getting himself out of there was if his mother had the shadows take him back, but he knew that she would never allow that.

He had to wonder what was happening in his absence. Did Cas run off after he was taken to warn the others of the shadows, of them taking Jack away, or did he remain in his quarters, silent, feigning ignorance? Jamie certainly would've noticed his absence and it wouldn't take him long at all to figure out something was wrong when Jack didn't show up for duties. He would've skipped straight through the other ranks and gone to the General, and Pitch- What would he have done when he found out Jack wasn't on board anymore? Did he drop everything to put together a rescue mission, gather a team to scour the Constellations and investigate his disappearance? Could they really afford to stunt progress just for the sake of one missing soldier?

That is, if they weren't already dealing with problems of their own. While he had no clear way of knowing what his mother was doing when she wasn't around, Jack had some ideas, and none of them lead to anything good. She wanted to plan another attack on the _Nova_ , wipe out the Golden Army, and kill Pitch first and foremost. His only inkling of positivity came from the fact that he knew whatever she planned to do, it wouldn't be anything quick. That was too boring. She and the shadows wanted to make a game of their victory. That much he knew. There wasn't any rush for them to achieve their goals.

The longer he spent in isolation, the more time he had to brood over his situation. He wanted to leave, but at the same time, he wasn't sure what he would do if he was even offered the chance to. If leaving meant leaving his sister behind--because surely, nobody on the _Nova_  would understand that a Fearling could be safe to have around--he wasn't sure he could go through with it. If he could have either his freedom or his sister, he would rather have his sister, even if it was the twisted, unsettling version of her that he felt he barely knew.

Although, that was all figurative, since Jack doubted he would ever get a chance to leave at all.

It started making him angry. The more time he was left with his thoughts, the more time he had to wonder if anyone was bothering to look for him, why his mother put him in that situation, why his sister had become such a creature, why everything that happened to him was such a goddamn tragedy. When it really came down to it, he thought: _Why me?_

After wandering for what felt like hours in an attempt to distract himself from his thoughts, Jack found himself standing in the room full of statues. As he walked through each of them to get a better look, he came to realize that they were made in resemblance to the personifications of some of the Constellations, the ones made into Zodiacs. Each statue was smooth to the touch, made of marble, most as tall as he was. As he looked closer, squinting against the darkness he'd mostly gotten used to by then, he noticed the finer details, like the lashes on the eyes of Virgo, and the hairs carved in the mane of Leo.

One of Gemini's heads had been broken off, knocked to the floor and cracked down the center. When he leaned down to pick it up, a piece chipped off in his hand, cutting into his palm. Surprised, the marble head fell from his hands and back to the cold, hard ground, where it crumbled into even more pieces. The sound of it crashing into the floor echoed throughout the room, leaving his ears ringing.

Anger built up from the pit of his stomach and rose to his chest, to his throat, spilling out like lava from a volcano as he let out a shout of rage and smashed his foot over the head of Gemini, breaking it into even more pieces until it was hardly discernible anymore. He felt his breath shorten, passing through his teeth as he spun towards the next statue, snapping a horn off Taurus and smashing it into into one of the weights held by Libra. Each statue, while made of marble, was broken and fragile, weakened by time. In the center of them all, they were hollow, and in Jack's fury, he used pieces of each of them to break more of what was already broken. Shards of stone scattered across the floor, cracking under his feet as he stormed from one side of the room to the other, lashing out at these figures that had no chance of defending themselves in their insentience.

He didn't know where it came from, his desire to break all that surrounded him, but it felt like a storm that had been building inside of him for far too long, a hurricane that finally found its way to the surface. He hated the Gemini for cutting into his hand. He hated how it watched him destroy the other statues surrounding it, how it ever _dared_  to do anything against him when he'd already been through so much, as if it had a personal vendetta against him. He hadn't deserved that, not when he was dealing with everything else.

His hands itched to destroy, to let every pent up aggression out on anything that came near. How _dare_  his mother leave him, how _dare_  she. When everything else had fallen around him, she was supposed to be his light, and she had failed him. _She_  had failed _him_ ; not the other way around. And yet, she still had the audacity to trap him in that tomb with her, a sarcophagus filled with dust and darkness and despair, weighed down by the heavy dirt of loneliness, where he'd been buried alive and left to suffocate all on his own, as he always was.

He was mad that she'd left him on his own those years ago. He was mad that she still wasn't the mother he wanted her to be, still wasn't the mother he _needed_  her to be. He was mad that all his time spent searching for Olivia felt wasted, when she was trapped as she was, a husk of her former self. He was mad at himself for failing them both, for not finding either of them in time, for letting them down time and time again. He was angry about everything he could ever think to be angry about.

And when the adrenaline of his fury finally began dying away, Jack found himself standing before Virgo. A short-standing woman, a beauty carved into marble, a long-standing perfection despite the destruction of those around her. He stared at her, chest heaving and tears burning his eyes, and he thought of his mother and all she'd ever meant to him. He touched her smooth cheek and his fingers found a deep, jagged gash he hadn't noticed before, the only scar marring her otherwise flawless features. And it hurt him, somehow, in a way that he couldn't explain or understand. It hurt him to see this piece of art tainted. As he glanced down, he realized he still held the horn of Taurus in his other hand, and remembered that he was the cause of the blemish forever marring the face of Virgo. He was to blame.

Tears spilled over his cheeks and dripped from his chin onto the dust-littered floor. He didn't know what was wrong with him, why his chest heaved and his breath shortened, why he suddenly couldn't breath or why he hated himself for bringing harm to that one insentient statue when he'd destroyed so many of the others without a second thought. Dropping his hand away from her cheek, Jack fell into a slump at her feet, the horn of Taurus falling from his grip. He pressed his forehead against her knees and wrapped his arms around her legs, knowing that it was the first semblance of comfort he'd had since he'd seen what Olivia had become, and that it came from a cold, lifeless statue who was not his mother, and who could not hug him back.

He wailed at the feet of the statue, fist slamming into the shards of marble lying scattered about on the floor beside him. He didn't care that they cut through his his hand, made him bleed.

Without having any idea of how much time passed while he kneeled on the floor in front of the inanimate Virgo, Jack felt himself begin to doze off. Weakly, he tapped his head against the statue once again, too tired to cry anymore. The storm inside him had passed for the time being and all that was left was the broken debris of himself. He was tired. He was tired of the nightmares, of the shadows chasing him, of the terrible things that happened to him and those he came in contact with. He was tired of making a mess out of everything.

"I just want a happy ending," he said quietly, with only the broken statues around to hear him. "That's all I want."

As he began to doze off, a slightly illuminated stream of something golden passed him by, but he thought he may have just been dreaming.

\--

When Jack woke up, his first thought was about that being the best sleep he'd had in longer than he could remember, even longer than his time spent in his mother's lair. While there were still weights on his shoulders, they felt pounds lighter. He felt like he could breath without worrying over a hitch in his chest, or floods in his eyes, or acid in his throat. Being so refreshed was such an unfamiliar sensation that he almost didn't know what to do with himself.

He was still in the room of statues and lying on the flat, solid ground gave him kinks in his back and shoulders that were a pain to try and smooth out once he got to his feet. With a groan, he took a look around, dully assessing the mess he'd made and vaguely hoping that they weren't anything important. His mother was enough of a tyrant without prompting; he didn't want to imagine what she would be like if she was genuinely angry. He didn't doubt that she might just let the Fearlings kill him.

As he reached up to run his fingers through his hair, sand fell free, but he was used to having it in his hair. Every single time he'd woken up since his arrival, he'd had that black sand in his otherwise snowy white hair, causing him nightmares that made sleeping more of a torture than it was a relief. They were always just a reminder that he couldn't escape his situation regardless if he was awake or asleep. He would always be forced to be afraid.

However, the sand that fell from his hair wasn't the inky black substance he was used to, but instead an array of golden grains, each individual piece giving off its own, very slight glow. His gaze was drawn to them, wide-eyed with a lively curiosity he hadn't felt in a long time, not since his spirits had started fading away. Kneeling to get a better look, Jack noticed the grains of sand lifting themselves up off the ground and forming together, as if by magic. As he watched the sand take the shape of a star, and then an exclamation point, and finally an arrow, Jack almost felt purely entranced.

Following where the arrow was pointing, he came to notice a very, very fine trail of golden sand leading out of the room. As he stood, the arrow slowly rode along the trail of sand, pointing in the direction it went, as if silently coaxing him to follow.

At first, Jack was hesitant. He wondered if he was dreaming again and if this would all lead into some horrific display that would leave him feeling traumatized until he slept again, or if it was another of his mother's dirty tricks that would have him follow it straight into a trap, where he'd find himself once again surrounded by Fearlings without so much as a sword to protect himself with. With those thoughts swirling in his head, conflicting his actions, he almost didn't follow, but with his first step towards it, he was reminded of how much lighter he felt than he did before he'd fallen asleep, and it was enough to encourage him to keep going.

The sand was like a dull-glowing beacon leading him through the halls shaded in darkness, and the longer he followed it, the less wound up he felt. With his icy gaze locked on the sand, he worried less about what might be there to jump out at him around each corner, or about his mother coming to stab him in the back. He didn't worry about where his sister might have gone off to or if there was any trouble being made. All he was concerned with in that short expanse of time was finding the end of the tunnel lit up by the glowing, golden sand.

It lured him down the first flight of stairs he'd seen since he'd arrived, a long walk down a narrow, carpeted staircase that lead to another large set of doors that loomed over his small form. He stopped outside of them, watching as the sand slipped in through the cracks underneath. For only the second time since he'd started following it, Jack hesitated, glancing around in the darkness for any signs that he might be walking into a trap. It was sand, after all, and the only type of magic sand he'd dealt with up until that point caused him nightmares and helped formed the shadows that fought against him.

"Well, I've gone this far," he decided, squaring his shoulders and pushing against the doors. They opened eerily slow, creaking from their years of age and lack of use.

Once the doors were opened, Jack stood stock-still in the doorway, eyes wide as he processed what he saw before him. In the center of the room was a massive, undulating orb of ebony sand, slowly circulating as if moved by a sentient being, or a variety of them all clustered together to form the sphere of shadows. It was almost enough to make him back out, run back up the stairs and get as far away from the room as he possibly could because something like that _had_  to be a trap, but just as his muscles tensed to leave, something caught his eyes that urged him to stay. The golden sand he'd followed there receded under the mass of black, and behind the darkness, it glowed, as if there was a light at the center.

Drawn towards the light, fueled almost purely by curiosity alone, Jack pushed onwards, slowly and carefully moving towards the object made of ink-stained sand as if he was afraid it would jump out and attack him at any given moment. He stopped within reaching distance of it, unwilling to get any closer to get a better look. There was obviously something glowing behind the dark mass of sand, something light and golden that brought him a feeling of warmth just by standing so close.

He searched for where the stream of golden sand had gone, but there was no other sign of it. It was impossible to see details of anything on the inside of the darkened sand aside from the dull golden glow. As far as he knew, it could just be an illusion brought on by his lack of sleep or another nightmare, but somehow, he doubted it. The deep-rooted unsettling feeling he had whenever he was locked in a nightmare wasn't there. All he felt was a vague, buried down sensation of warmth that pulled him towards the light inside the darkness.

When nothing struck out at him, Jack decided that the sand wasn't made up of actual Fearlings, but just the sand itself. It moved by a power of its own creation without the necessity of sentience. While it definitely didn't mean it couldn't still hurt him, it gave him the ease he needed to reach out for the sphere. His fingers just barely touched the outer layer of sand at first, the rough feeling scratching lightly against his cold, shaky hand as he continued to reach into it, past his wrist, his elbow, and nearly up to his shoulder before he finally touched something different. Through the chilly sand made of shadows, Jack felt something warm, like a beach on a sunny day.

As he tried to grab a handful, something wrapped around his wrist, squeezing tightly and startling him enough to shout in fear and pull back. For a moment, he was stuck--not as if he was being pulled towards the mass of piceous sand, but as if something had grabbed him and wouldn't let go, sticking him there until he pulled as hard as he could to get away from whatever it was that'd latched onto him. As he continued to attempt to pull away, his arm started freeing itself from the shadows, but whatever was on his hand was slipping out with it. He could feel the resistance in the shadowy sand, almost as if it was blocking whatever it was that was trying to get out with the use of Jack's hand.

With one, final tug, the barricade broke free and Jack fell backwards as something came tumbling out of the sphere, crashing into him as they both dropped into a heap on the ground.

When he opened his eyes, he was stunned at what he saw. Lying splayed across his lap was a small- man?- made of golden sand, or at least he appeared to be, although it seemed highly unlikely that there could be anyone like that. At first, Jack worried that the man might be knocked unconscious, but as he reached out to touch him, the man lifted his head, a golden-eyed gaze meeting with his own icy blue. Jack froze, his heart hammering in his chest, both unwilling and unable to look away from this- person?- that sat in his lap. If it was some sort of trap, he surely would have been ripe for the kill, too stunned and afraid to rise to his feet and run away.

The man made of the soft-glowing golden sand shifted and Jack tensed, waiting for something terrible to follow. Rather than claws plunging into his chest or teeth sinking into his flesh, or any other colorful variety of terrifying situations that came into mind when he saw the man move, short arms wrapped tightly around his neck--and, surprisingly, not in the murderous psychopath kind of way, but more in the friendly gesture kind of way. A hug, Jack realized.  _He's hugging me._

As the man moved away, he hopped off Jack's lap, a broad, almost blinding smile overtaking his golden face. His hands moved almost too quickly to follow, symbols of sand popping up in front of his face like shadow puppets during a picture show, all of which forming and disappearing within seconds of each other. Jack continued to gawk at the man in silence, blinking slowly as he started to believe that he'd definitely gone mad somewhere along the way of his time being trapped there, and that he was now seeing things even in the waking world, weird, crazy, delusional things that made no sense whatsoever.

Eventually, the man seemed to acknowledge the look of confusion written all over Jack's features and stopped his frantic images from appearing so quickly. He paused a moment, hand on his chin as he seemed to think something over, perhaps a way of communicating. Jack wondered at first why he didn't just say something, but he soon realized that the man simply might not be able to talk.

Glancing back to Jack, the man smiled again, softer this time. An image made of sand of what Jack could only guess was a Fearling appeared over his head, followed a moment later by an orb that resembled the one behind them. He made an image that looked like himself, following again with the orb, and repeated that twice more before Jack found his voice well enough to speak. "You were trapped in there?"

Pleased, the man replied with an enthusiastic nod. A heart appeared over his head, followed by exclamation point after exclamation point. The small man was practically jumping up and down with joy as he pointed at Jack while the symbols appeared, making it obvious what he was trying to convey.

Smiling awkwardly, Jack rose to his feet, wanting to be able to run if he needed to, although the man didn't send off any alarms, no signs of a threat, nothing to make him assume that he might be dangerous or willing to attack. "You're welcome, I guess," Jack replied hesitantly, still more confused than anything else. He looked at the orb of shadowy sand, still undulating even without its prisoner inside. Gazing back down at the strange-looking man, Jack gestured towards him. "Who- _what_  are you? I've never seen anything like you before."

Over the man's head, a star appeared, and Jack's eyes widened at the implication. "Are you..." He had to pause just to gather his thoughts before they started to get away from him. Before he was even able to compose himself, he tried again. "Are you the shooting star?"

Everything in his being told him that it was impossible, that even hearing himself say it out loud was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard, but the man nodded to confirm that what he'd said was the truth, and for whatever unfeasible reason, Jack believed him. He knew his mother told him about her meeting with a shooting star, and this little man made of gold-sewn sand seemed to fit her description. It was still hard to believe, especially after spending most of his life assuming he would never see one in person, nonetheless one that was...well, _this_. He never thought a shooting star was actually some sort of man, nonetheless one made out of sand rather than the impalpable gas that real stars were made of.

"This is unbelievable," Jack laughed, shaky and bewildered. He'd come across a lot of inconceivable things in his short lifetime, but this one certainly took the cake in the realm of incredibility. Laughing again, high-pitched and nearing hysterics, Jack had to turn away from the man just out of pure disbelief of what was happening. "I can't believe this is happening. Is this even real life right now or am I still dreaming?" He pinched himself just to make sure, and twice more just to be _absolutely_  positive, before spinning back around to face the man made of sand once again, who looked confused and concerned by his ramblings. "Okay, okay. Assuming this _is_  real, and that you really are standing here in front of me, and that I haven't just flown off the deep-end and lost my mind, care to tell me what's going on? Why are you here?" Before the man could even begin to answer, Jack held up a hand to stop him. "Wait, first, do you have a name?" He gave him a crooked, tired smile. "I'm Jack, Commander in the Golden Army."

A hat appeared over the man's head and he grabbed it as he bowed, a motion Jack found almost amusing. When the man stood straight again, he simply pointed to his body with both hands, an hourglass appearing above his head with sand trickling through it.

The message wasn't entirely clear, so Jack furrowed his brow, taking a moment to try and understand him. He could tell that learning the man's system of speech would take a while. "Are you trying to say 'Time'? Hourglass? Sand?" In response to the last one, an exclamation point appeared over the man's head and he made a motion in the air with his hands that Jack had to watch a few times to understand. "'Y'? 'Sandy'?"

Beaming, the man nodded, and Jack couldn't help but smile. "So, Sandy, care to tell me what's going on?"

Sandy seemed happy to give him all the information he wanted, but before any symbols could appear over his head, a voice rang out, loud and clear as it echoed through the corridors, down the stairs, and throughout the room they both stood in. "Jackson! Where are you?" His mother's voice circled him, a song to her tone that sent shivers down his spine. "If we're playing a game of hide-and-seek, you know that I'll find you. I always do."

As her voice grew nearer, Jack felt the cold claws of panic grip him as he tried to figure out what to do, where to go. He knew he couldn't let her find him in there, especially not if she was the one who trapped Sandy in the sphere in the first place. She would be livid if she discovered that he'd freed the shooting star, for whatever reason she had for keeping him locked up in the first place. At the same time, he knew he couldn't just leave Sandy there alone for her to find him. If she saw that he was free, there was no telling what she might do to him.

On the verge of panicking, Jack felt a small hand tug his sleeve and he looked down to see Sandy putting a finger to his lips and pointing in another direction. When he let go, he motioned for Jack to follow, and they quickly ran off to a room connected to that one, passing through three more before they came to another set of stairs that they climbed. As they reached the top of the stairs, Jack could still hear his mother's voice, growing increasingly agitated the longer it took for her to find him.

After going down another corridor, the two found themselves at the room given to Jack. Too afraid to question how they were able to end up there, Jack quickly ushered Sandy under his bed. He'd just shut the door, standing outside of his room, when he found his mother standing right before him, as tall, dark, and looming as she ever was. He jolted, back against the door as she studied him closely.

"Were you hiding from me, Jackson?" she asked, a rise to her lips that showed her displeasure. "You know I don't like searching for you when I don't actually know where you are."

"Doesn't that defeat the purpose of the game?" he remarked, not meeting her eye.

She seemed to notice his averted gaze, as she grabbed his chin in her ice-blooded hands and forced him to look her in the eyes. "The fun part is finding you; the thrill is the chase. I will make my own rules to the games we play." She dropped her hand away from his chin. "However, I wanted you for a different reason this time around. So, if you'll come with me, I have something I want to show you."

Swallowing against the knot in his throat, Jack nodded, pushing away from the door to follow her. He could only hope that it wouldn't be something he'd already found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Sandy so much. Next to Pitch and Jack, he's probably my favorite character. Look at him! Isn't he just the cutest? There's a whole unofficial comic on the wiki about him chasing a cat. That is definitely my kind of character.
> 
> His name isn't in the list of characters because, well, it would've been a spoiler.
> 
> I'm sorry for the week wait for each chapter! In honesty, it takes me about that much time to write each one, plus the revision day. I'm glad this little story interests you all enough that you're excited for each new update though! Thank you again for all the comments and kudos! ♥


	16. Chapter 16

“I felt that I was not, never had been and never would be, a living part of this overpoweringly solid and deeply meaningful world around me.”

— _John Knowles, A Separate Peace_

\--

Rather than bringing him to a new room, Jack’s mother walked him through a portal of shadows and into a different area altogether. It was darker than any other he’d ever been in, completely lacking in light. It felt like the shadows themselves—void of light, of sound, of existence entirely. Jack felt as though he’d walked straight out of space and time, a rift in the universe that could only be described as the void that it was. It sent shivers down his spine and chills all throughout his body, as it simply felt _wrong_  to be there, wherever they were.

Although he couldn’t see, he somehow knew that there were no walls around them, which made him feel like he was vulnerable, out in the open and ready for an attack to come at him from any side. With his eyes as wide as they would open, he tried to search for any change in the darkness, a different shade of black, or a shimmer against the background that might tell him where an enemy was, if there were any. As he stood stock still, too terrified to move his locked legs, he tried to listen for any sounds of danger, but he was only met with silence. It was all so very… _empty_.

A hand on his back reminded him that he wasn’t alone. Although he knew it was his mother, the very same who had brought him harm and trapped him in her lair for an unknowable amount of time, recognizing that she was still there beside him brought him a fine sliver of relief. He felt like a blind man pushed out into a wide open, unfamiliar field in the wilderness, where anything could happen at any time. His skin itched against the unsettling sensation that crawled through his bones, giving him the adept perception that he wasn’t supposed to be there. He was never meant to go wherever he'd walked into, wherever it was his mother had taken him. It was wrong and everything in him and around him was screaming it at him.

While it was impossible to tell if his mother felt the same, she put pressure against his back until she was able to usher him forward. His legs moved as if they were frozen and still trying to thaw, stiffly and awkwardly jolting him forward to follow his mother, with the fear fresh in mind that if he didn’t move fast enough she might get fed up with him and leave him there in the dark all alone.

They were both silent. Jack’s jaw locked into place, his other senses trying to make up for the one he’d lost. He was much too preoccupied with trying to keep himself calm to find any words to say. He was almost afraid to speak, as if he would find out that the void would swallow his words and take his voice. It was an irrational fear, he knew, but it was enough to keep him silent despite how maddening it felt to not be able to know for sure that anything was out there. There was an extreme lack of anything. It was all just _space_ , an empty void that shouldn’t _be_. It was full of desolation; a place where nothing existed, and everything was not.

In a petrifying, core-shaking instance, Jack _knew_  something was coming.

He could feel it in his bones. He could sense in the area around him. It was just the slightest shift, but it was enough to put him more on edge than he’d been before, his hair standing on end, every muscle in his body tensed even though he knew there was no way to be ready for whatever it was he was about to experience. A tsunami of emotions washed over him, a cocktail of chaos and debris inside his consciousness that all wanted to spill to the surface at once during his time of turmoil, but they trapped each other, lodged themselves in his chest, their excess vibrating through his veins with nowhere else to go. He wanted to cry, scream, laugh, and cease to exist all at once.

“Do you feel it?” his mother asked, her voice merely a whisper against the storm raging inside of him.

Her arm left his form as he dropped to his knees, curling into himself, breath heavy and hitching, arms clamped over his head as he tried to sort himself out. He felt like he was being separated into each individual molecule that made him who he was, physically and spiritually, as if pieces of himself were trying to escape and become one with the void around him. It was _excruciating_ ; indescribable. Not quite pain, but not at all welcome.

Through his teeth, he ground out, “What is it?”

“It’s everything,” she replied. “It’s the void in which our universe was made, in which our very existences came to be. _This_ , Jackson, is where it all began. This is what I needed to show you.” He heard, rather than felt, her crouch down in front of him, her nails digging into his shoulders, barely a grain of sand against the pins and needles under his skin. “This is what I needed you to understand. Can you feel it? You, Jackson, are just a meager, minuscule speck of the universe, an existence birthed by miracles and regret. You- I- _We_  never should have been, and yet we are.” Her hands fell from his shoulders, her fingers brushing his cold and clammy cheek as he tried to collapse further in on himself, as if his arms were the only things keeping himself from falling apart. “Your life is a virus and it can be cured away at any time. You are part of what _this_  is. I needed you to understand that.”

“Please,” he begged, eyes shut tight against the void. “ _Please_. I can’t- I can’t take it. I can’t take it.” With every word, he felt as though his worst fears were coming to be, that the parts inside of him, not only his voice, but his mind, his consciousness, his very being at his very core, were all slipping out through his open, desperate mouth.

His mother grabbed the sides of his face and pulled his head up to look at her, even though when he managed to open his eyes, all he saw was the darkness between them and nothing more. She screeched at him, the volume of her voice leaving his ears ringing. “ _Do_  you understand, Jackson?” Again, her nails dug into his skin, but all he could feel was how wrong every part of his being felt. “I need to you understand! You can’t leave until you understand!”

“Please,” he croaked. “I can’t do this. I don’t want this. I don’t want th-”

“ _Jackson_ , answer me!”

Jack once again closed his eyes, afraid of the tears he could just barely feel pouring down his cheeks. He worried it might be his essence leaking out of him. He wanted it to stop, but didn’t know how to control himself.

When he was silent for too long, his mother smacked him across the face. He heard the distinct sound of her hand hitting his cheek, but he was otherwise numb. As far as he knew, she was an illusion, a ghost against the void created by his own desperation. He felt so out of touch with everything, faded and distant and falling apart at the seams. He didn’t feel like himself. He didn’t feel like anyone, really. She kept calling his name and at some point, he began to wonder who it even belonged to, who she was trying to reach.

Terrified and shaking, Jack managed to find what he felt was left of his voice in order to speak again, his words barely a whisper against the void. “I understand,” he sobbed. “Please. I _understand_.”

In the next instant, pain became his very being. The void disappeared around them as they returned to his mother's lair. Jack heaved all the contents of his stomach on the floor, face pale, hands shaking. His sobs wracked all throughout his body as he finished emptying his insides and curled into himself, eyes shut, hands clamped tight around his stomach. His mind tried to piece itself back together, bit by bit, as the meaning of words and language returned to him, as the reality of his existence came crashing down on him like a ten ton weight that threatened to crush his bones into stardust.

All at once, everything that had started to go so numb and faded in the void regained sensation and he could suddenly feel every piece of himself. He could feel the blood pumping in his veins, his heart thrashing against his ribs, his stomach clenching from the nausea brought on by trauma, his head throbbing, his shoulders bleeding— _everything_. And everything hurt like it'd never hurt before. It was as if he'd never known pain until that moment where his body was thrown into every suffering known to mankind. If it meant no longer feeling, he would have gladly traded his life to give up the agonies of his physical form, but he wasn't given that option.

Absently, he recognized that his mother was still standing by his side. When he opened his soggy eyes rimmed with red, he blinked past the blurry tears and flinched away from her. As much as it pained him to move, Jack forced his aching muscles to push him at least into a sitting position, where he was able to scoot away from the woman who had put him through the torment in the first place. He only stopped when his back hit a wall, one arm still crossed over his stomach as if he still wasn't entirely sure that he wouldn't completely fall apart at the seams if he removed it, the other keeping him propped up, his nails scratching against the solid ground until they bled.

Every breath was ragged. Tremors shook his body so hard that he was almost afraid of cracking, breaking like fragile glass. He stared at her long and hard, silent as he did all in his power to force himself to accept that the reality he was in was real, and not just an illusion brought on by the fallacy of space and time. He was real, his existence was valid. He needed to remember those things or he just might lose himself.

Staring back at him with almost a look of pity, Jack's mother opened her mouth to speak, but before so much as a syllable could pass her lips, Jack broke through the razors in his throat to shout at her with all the strength he had left. "Don't!" He steadied his gaze, glowering at the form of hers he could barely see from the distance. His lips were turned up in a snarl, his eyes like stalactites ready to rain down and impale at a moment's notice. "Don't."

So she did was he ordered and did nothing at all. He blinked for a second too long and she was gone when he opened his eyes. His relief was short-lived as the exhaustion overwhelmed him and he passed out where he laid.

\--

When Jack finally awoke, he found himself staring through the blank, soulless eyes of who he assumed was supposed to be his sister. Her head was tilted to the side and she didn't move away as he tried to shift his stiff body into a better position. If he wasn't mistaken, he almost thought she looked concerned, but it was hard to tell when her face couldn't reflect any real emotions. Regardless, just considering it was enough to make him shoot her a smile, as tight and pained as it was.

"I'm fine," he assured her, although the grimace that replaced his smile was a dead giveaway that he certainly wasn't. He wasn't fine at all. The only relief came at the realization that he finally felt secure in his own skin, that he no longer felt as if his being was about to fall apart and become one with the universe that created him. Just thinking about what he'd gone through made his head throb, but it barely held a candle against the pain he'd felt before he passed out. While it was impossible to know how long he'd been unconscious, it was at least long enough for the initial, overwhelming pain to pass, rolling over into a dull throb in each portion of his body.

Trying to stand was an effort in itself, but after scraping the wall a few times, he was finally able to pull himself onto his feet. He stood there for a while, slightly hunched, knees shaking, trying to regain his balance. All the while, Olivia stood and watched him with the patience she'd never had when she was- when she wasn't _this_.

Jack tried to imagine what it would be like if Olivia was still her usual self. She would be all over him, buzzing around demanding to let her take care of him. He could protest, but they would all be shut down as she would grab his hand and lead him to bed, tuck him in and kiss his forehead, read to him from one of her many books until he pretended to fall asleep. Despite being the younger sibling, she would always make sure to do her best to take care of him when he was ill or if he'd fallen out of a tree and hurt himself, which happened more often than not. Sometimes she would scold him, and she would never resemble their mother more than in those times. It would always make him laugh. Just knowing he had her by his side, knowing she cared for him so much, was enough to make him feel better every single time.

Instead, this Olivia didn't hold his hand, didn't even reach for it. She uttered a quiet "Jack" once or twice, but nothing more as he used the wall to keep himself steady as he tried to find his room. She remained by his side the entire way back, keeping the same distance she always did, hollow eyes staring ahead. She was just an ink blot against the usual darkness around them, but after being there for so long, Jack was used to it. He could see things clearer than he could when he first arrived.

He wasn't sure what compelled him to speak when his throat still felt raw, but he hated the silence more than he hated the pain. "Do you like mom?" he asked, cloudy eyes glancing towards the Fearling he claimed as his sister. "Do you still love her, even though she's different now?"

He didn't expect a response and he didn't get one. Olivia didn't even look in his direction. Sighing, he blew his sweat-soaked bangs from his eyes and nodded quietly. "Yeah, I'm not sure how to answer that either."

The trip back to his room was slow and arduous, each step sending a shudder of pain through his legs and up his spine. He had to make frequent stops just to catch his breath and steady himself again. The corridors never felt longer than they did then. He felt like they wound on forever, fun house illusions that stretched on and on like in the nightmares when he was trying to run away from something, but couldn't reach the way out. Making that connection made him paranoid until he stopped even more often to check over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't being followed by any hostile shadows. He doubted he would be able to run or fight back with the state he was in, anyway.

In the hopes of maintaining the bits of his frayed sanity, Jack continued to break the silence. "You know, I can't help but feel like this is my fault. I've been told not to think that way, but it's hard when I play it out in my head. If I never left the cave, the shadows probably never would've seen where we were hiding. They wouldn't have taken you. Mom wouldn't have lost her senses and gone off on her own to find you."

His thoughts were a constant twister of "if only's" and "what if's." _If only_  I'd been able to save Olivia. _If only_  I'd been able to keep mom from going off on her own. _What if_  I never left the cave? _What if_  I went with mom instead of accepting her abandonment and making sure she was safe and not all alone? _If only_  he'd done _this, if only_  he'd done _that_. They wore down his conscience. The hardships of his past were like crime scenes, with his own footsteps broadcasting the evidence that he was the one to blame, the criminal who lead his mother straight to the shadows, who took his sister's life away.

"I'd rather it be me," he went on, scratching the sand out of his hair. "I would trade my life for yours any day. I would give up everything I have if it meant you could have a normal life again, if it meant you and mom could be happy and live together. You know that, right?" He looked to his sister again, and again, she didn't look back. He let out a strangled sound, pausing to slam his fist against the wall. It sent bolts of pain up his arm, but he barely paid it any mind. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry it's like this. I'm sorry." He scrubbed his hands through his hair in his frustration, wiping them down his face as he swallowed the knots in his throat.

The longer he stood there staring at her, legs shaking, eyes watering, the harder it was for him to accept what had come to be. After too long, he finally forced himself to turn away, staring ahead once again. "I really do make a mess of everything."

They arrived at his room a handful of minutes later. It wasn't until he had his hand on the door that he remembered the short man made of luminescent golden sand that he'd left behind just before his mother took him away. He hoped Sandy hadn't wandered off somewhere while he'd been gone, or that his mother hadn't stumbled upon him and trapped him again, or worse, which he didn't doubt she was capable of.

Glancing over his shoulder, Jack scanned the dark corridor behind him to make absolutely sure that he was alone. As far as he could tell, the only one around was Olivia. When his gaze landed on her, he hesitated. Would she tell their mother if she knew about Sandy? Kneeling down, wincing as he did, Jack made eye contact with her—well, as best as he could without her having any eyes. "Olivia, I need you to listen to me. I'm about to introduce you to someone, but you can't tell mom about it, okay? Remember the time you had a pet bird and I helped you keep it secret, until mom found out and made you get rid of it? It's like that."

To his surprise, she replied. "Yes."

Smiling, he pressed a finger to his lips and used the door to pull himself back into a standing position. There were things he needed to deal with, but all he really wanted to do was go back to sleep until his body went back to normal. There was no telling how long that would take, but it wasn't like he was in any hurry.

Turning away from Olivia, Jack pulled open the door and motioned for her to go ahead of him. When she was inside, he followed after and closed the door behind them. It didn't lock, and his mother rarely knocked, so if she decided to make an appearance, it would be bad, but for the time being it was all the privacy they could have.

To his relief, Sandy was perched on top of his bed, symbols of sand playing around his head to keep him entertained. When he spotted Jack, the star lit up and started to wave, retracting his hand when he took notice of the tattered state Jack was in. Frowning, a question mark appeared over his head, his expression one of deep-written concern that tugged at Jack's heartstrings over how genuine he seemed without having to say a single word.

"I'm fine," Jack assured him, just as he had with Olivia. "No flesh wounds. I'll be in top shape once I get some rest." He joined Sandy on the bed, leaning back on his hands and yawning.

The short man looked liked he didn't believe a word of that, but his attention averted towards the Fearling standing by Jack's feet. He gestured towards her, getting to his feet with his hands raised, obviously on the defensive. Although he didn't know what Sandy was capable of, Jack quickly put out his arm to block Olivia from him, meeting his eye. "She's not like the others," he quickly explained. When a female symbol appeared over Sandy's head, a doleful smile came over Jack's lips. "Her name's Olivia. She's- She's my sister. The shadows can turn some humans into Fearlings." He sighed and looked towards her as she wandered aimlessly around the large, black-walled room. "I don't think there's a cure, though."

A small, sand-embedded hand landed on his shoulder as a gesture of sympathy and Jack sighed again, accepting the form of comfort for what it was. He'd only known the shooting star for less than an hour overall, but he already felt compelled to spill his heart to him, all his miseries and traumas, all the things that tainted his insides like ink stains on paper. Sandy gave off a soft glow that warmed him just by proximity, a sensation of light and comfort that came from snow days and good dreams. And when he met Sandy's golden-eyed gaze, he somehow knew, without being told, that he was willing to do anything for this stranger he knew next to nothing about.

"That woman you saved, she trapped you didn't she?" When Sandy nodded, Jack's lips thinned to a straight line. He already knew the answer before he asked, but it didn't bring him any comfort to have it confirmed. If what his mother told him was the truth, which Jack believed it was, then that meant, rather than being rewarded for doing good, Sandy had been cruely punished, locked away like a prisoner. "I'm sorry. She's not herself. Or, she's not like she used to be, anyway. I would know; I'm her son."

If it was possible to look any more sympathetic, Sandy managed it. He cupped his hands together, opening them a moment later to reveal a heart made of sand. As he tapped it, a crack appeared down the center. Seeing Jack's dejected reaction to it, Sandy held up a finger and swirled it around the heart, bandages of golden sand wrapping around the heart and patching it back together. He beamed at his handiwork, raising it so Jack could get a better look.

Although he wasn't sure why, Jack barked a laugh, wiping a stray, unwelcome tear from his eye as he stared at this modestly repaired heart meant to resemble his own. "Thanks, Sandy."

He reached out for it, the heart made of sand briefly falling into a small pile in Sandy's hands until they rose up and swirled around Jack's head, almost like playful whips of golden grains. When he ran his fingers through them, he was shocked to see small dolphins leap out of the streams as if they were made of water.

Mystified and amazed, he laughed like a child seeing the first snowfall of winter and knowing that school would be out soon. "Sandy! This is amazing!" The golden glow reflected in his icy blue eyes as he leaned towards the thin stream of sand, watching the dolphins leap in and out of it as they continued to circle around him. "How are you doing this?"

When he looked towards Sandy for an answer, all he got in reply was a shrug and a wide, wry smile that silently said, _"What can I say? I'm incredible."_

"Wait. Waitwaitwait." Jack's eyes widened as the magic of what was happening came over him. If Sandy could do things like _this_ , if he could make images appear just out of sand, then maybe what his mother said he could do was true, maybe the rumors surrounding the abilities of shooting stars were more than that. He'd never wanted to believe something more in his entire life. "Sandy, can you grant wishes?"

Sandy's excitement faltered, but did not dull. He paused to think of his answer before finally replying with a short, solemn nod of the head. Before Jack's spirits could dare to grow any higher, the star held up a finger, pursing his lips. Above his head appeared a large, blocky number one with small arrows pointing towards it. Once it disappeared, he opened his arms out wide, a serious expression on his face.

"So," Jack drawled, slowly comprehending what it was Sandy was trying to convey, "only one wish, and you're saying it's gotta count?" To confirm, Sandy nodded. "Alright, so I can't just wish for a sandwich? Because I've been eating dusty old food that's come from who-knows-where for the entire time I've been in this place and I'm starting to worry about how this diet's going to effect my performance. And my gut."

Pouting and unamused by Jack's humor, Sandy vigorously shook his head. He walked over and grabbed Jack's cheeks in his rough, sand-strewn hands, the streams, along with the dolphins, dispersing. When he had eye contact, he took one hand away and held up a single finger between them.

Laughing, Jack nodded and leaned away. "I got it, I understand. One wish. Make it good. Noted."

A multitude of options started flooding his head right away. He'd never really given himself the chance to consider what he'd wish for if he could wish for anything. It was a forbidden line of thought that he knew would only lead to unfulfilled desires, a feeling of empty entitlements that he never should've had in the first place. Wishing for things was dangerous because, up until that very moment, wishes were intangible fantasies woven together by a combination of an over-active imagination and laziness. Jack always thought that the wishing was left to those who had nothing better to do, to the people who would rather lay around and dream than go out and make things happen. He was a doer, not a dreamer, not a wish-maker.

Leaning forward with his elbows propped up on his knees, Jack glanced over at Olivia as she took a seat in the corner of the room and stared at the wall, still and silent as she usually was. He could barely see her dark form against the backdrop of black walls and a black, stone floor. He thought his mother should fire her decorator.

"So, what are my limitations?" He continued to watch Olivia do nothing just for the sake of having something to focus on. "Can I wish for the end of the world? Immortality? Or are those things off-limits?" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sandy cross his arms over each other to make an 'X.' "Do _you_  get to choose what wish you want to grant and what you don't? Can't you just make things happen without someone making a wish?"

When he turned his gaze back on Sandy, the star looked like he had to think it over, sitting back down on the center of the bed with his legs crossed. A circle with a line crossed through it, an error symbol, appeared over his head, and Jack frowned, not quite understanding. "What's that supposed to mean? It doesn't work that way?"

Sandy nodded his reply and Jack sighed, falling back on his bed and closing his eyes. It was a lot to think about. There was no reason he needed to come up with a wish right then and there, though. When he opened his eyes again, he tilted his head so he could see Sandy again, who watched him with a patient smile painted on his lips. Jack didn't understand how anyone could be happy in their situation.

"Sandy, why are you still here? Can't you leave now that I've saved you?"

An image of a Fearling appeared between them and Sandy balled his hand into a fist, smacking it against his other hand. Seeing him try to look tough was almost funny, but Jack thought better of laughing about it. The last thing he needed to do was get on Sandy's bad side when he was his only hope left. "You want to destroy the shadows?" He snorted. "Good luck with that. Last time you tried, you got caught. Who knows how long she would've kept you trapped in that thing if I hadn't found you? I don't even want to think about what she would do to you if she found out you've escaped."

Sandy frowned, tilting his chin down as he let out a defeated sigh. Jack felt bad for putting any negative thoughts in his mind, but he didn't want him to go rushing into the line of action and getting himself captured again, or worse.

"Who am I to talk, though, right?" He murmured, more to himself than to Sandy, although he knew that the star was listening to what he had to say regardless. "I let my guard down, messed up too many times. Neither of us would probably even be in this position if it weren't for me."

In that silent way of his, Sandy gestured for Jack to continue. "The shadows have been a problem for a long time, but as far as I know, they're still sort of recent. A little over a decade, maybe. When they attacked my home planet, I couldn't protect Olivia, which isn't the first time I've put her in danger. If they hadn't taken her, my mom wouldn't have gone off on her own, you never would've needed to save her, and neither of you would've run into the shadows. She wouldn't be possessed like she is now and you wouldn't be trapped here." He blew out a heavy sigh, his aches begging him to sleep.

Closing his eyes, he thought back to his time on the _Nova_ , all the signs he should've taken notice to. If he hadn't been so caught up with his own turmoils, maybe he would've realized that the doors acting up was stranger than it should have been. The shadows were probably just eavesdropping on him, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. His mother probably didn't even know he was on that airship until he destroyed the shadows she'd sent to destroy it. If only he'd seen the signs sooner, if only he'd been able to react faster, _if only_ -

Jack's eyes flew open, heart thumping quickly against his chest, a thin layer of sweat lacing his brow. He felt his body for any signs of injuries and didn't relax until he was absolutely sure there weren't swords protruding from him at every angle, that the very people he'd come to trust weren't stabbing him through the back (and the stomach, chest, and legs). He hadn't even realized he'd fallen asleep until something loud and booming rocked him back to consciousness, but now that he was awake, he wasn't sure if it was real or just something he'd dreamed.

As he groggily became aware of his surroundings, Jack realized there was something tugging frantically at his shirt sleeve. When he looked down, the shooting star from earlier—thank god that hadn't been a dream—was jumping up and down at his side, pushing at him to get him out of bed. His panic was contagious as Jack went on high alert, scanning the room for any signs of danger. The only shadows he saw were the intangible ones, those that couldn't snicker in delight and stab him with their claws or swords.

It wasn't until he was finally on his feet that he realized what it was Sandy was so distressed about. Down the corridors, through the walls, and straight to Jack's core came the strikingly loud shriek of his mother. Her voice shook the lair in its entirety, the old, dusty building feeling as though it might fall apart from her voice alone. A shudder rolled up his spine; his mouth went dry. Every ache and pain that creaked in his rickety bones were nothing compared to the panic brought on by his fury-driven mother.

" _He's gone!!_ " she bellowed, the floor nearly shaking under Jack's feet. Or perhaps that was just him. " _Sanderson! Where have you gone?!_ "

"Sandy," Jack gasped, looking towards the distraught star still tugging at his arm.

Sandy pulled open the door to the bedroom and, with a surprising amount of strength that he certainly didn't look like he had, yanked Jack after him as he went through it. It didn't take much to convince Jack to follow once he heard his mother's voice call so loudly and harshly through the halls that it made his ears ring and the chandeliers shake. The problem, he realized as they passed through room after room, hall after hall, his mother's voice closing in on them with each corner they turned, was that there was no foreseeable way out, no escape, no light at the end of the tunnel. They were trapped in a cage with the monster who knew every nook and cranny, sitting ducks who could run as much as they wanted, but would still end up caught in her clutches in the end. All they were doing was delaying the inevitable.

"Sandy!" Jack called, following just a few paces behind the star. "Sandy, where are we going? There's no way out! We can't keep running!"

Sandy seemed to beg to differ, but their options wore thin when the shadows finally caught up to them. Jack saw them screeching down the corridor, racing for their heels, and knew that there was no way they could outrun them. Now that they were found, his mother wouldn't be too far behind, and knowing that Jack was in on helping Sandy's escape, mercy would not become her.

Between Jack and Sandy, the shadows fell, separating them and pushing them away from each other. Jack knew the tactic well. It was a common military strategy, especially since the Golden Army's main enemy was stronger in groups, weaker on their own. As a Fearling leaped towards him, Jack swiftly kicked it away. He managed to spin around and run only three steps further before he was met with another wall, trapped on either side by the unrelenting shadows. Standing altogether as they were, they looked like walls closing in on him. As the breath hitched in his throat, Jack silently warned himself that it was not the right time to have a panic attack, but he could feel it rising up through his throat like the bile that it was. His legs locked, his hands shook, and he stood without a defense against those who wished him harm.

Before the breath could truly escape his lungs, a dull-glowing light fought its way through the all-consuming darkness that threatened to swallow him whole. As he raised his head, Jack was astounded to see Sandy standing on the other side of the gathering of shadows, whips of golden sand in each hand as he slashed and hacked away at the nightmarish fiends. The Fearlings shrieked in protest, their forms made of ebony sand blending with Sandy's xanthous grains. Before so much as a single claw or sword could strike through Jack's flesh, a path was cleared, and he took his chance to run through it, adrenaline fueling his way down the corridor with a whip-wielding Sandy running at his side.

"That's it!" Jack exclaimed, earning a side-long glance from Sandy, who was more distracted defending them from the shadows than by Jack's sudden outburst. "That's the reason why: it's you! It's been you this whole time!" He barked a breathy laugh of disbelief as realization began to dawn on him. He couldn't believe he didn't have it figured out before, that he never managed to fully connect the dots on why Sandy seemed to be so detrimental, and why the Fearlings were suddenly, out of the blue one day, made of sand rather than their less tangible shadowy forms. "She needed you for your powers, to make them more solid, stronger than they ever were before!"

They met with a wall and Sandy quickly snapped his whips at a few Fearlings that had gotten too close. They screeched to a halt, haunting grins turning downwards once they realized that they were mistaken to grow so near, but it was too late for them. As soon as the extensions of Sandy slammed into them, the sand their forms were made of melded with the star's own, returning to their original owner.

When the way was cleared once again, they raced down another darkened corridor, making it only halfway before Jack slowed to a halt. While the shadows were still close behind them, waiting for a chance where they could slip past Sandy's whips and attack, a single Fearling stood in their path a short distance away.

As Sandy raised his weapon to strike, Jack quickly put his arm out to stop him. "Wait! Wait, don't. That's not- I don't think it's one of them." Fully aware of the danger, Jack slowly edged towards the single Fearling. It had no distinguishable features that would tell it apart from any of the others, its spindly limbs just as thin, its hollowed-out eyes just as eerie. Still, Jack felt it wasn't quite the same. He wanted to believe that it wasn't.

He felt a frantic tugging on his sleeve and saw Sandy making gestures both with his hands and with symbols of sand from the corner of his eyes, but Jack waved him off. "Wait, hold on. I think it's- She might be able to help us." Pushing onward, Jack stopped just a few feet from the stock-still Fearling. "Olivia? It's you, right? Can you help us?" When he got no response, his stomach clenched with resentment and anxiety, but he was sure it was her. If it wasn't, she wouldn't be standing there, would she? Wouldn't she be attacking just like the others? The fact that this one wasn't doing any of that proved to him that it was his sister, her soul trapped behind the carcass of a shadowy being. "If you can't help us, come with us. Olivia-"

"Jack." The Fearling's gaping maw grew into a dark, wide grin, and Jack had no chance to react as it struck out at him. Its claws ripped through the fabric of his shirt and dug deep into the flesh of his chest. He shouted in shock and pain, throwing the Fearling off of himself and twisting away as it tried to attack again. Before it could reach him a second time, a golden whip slashed at it. It fell into a pile of sand, retracted into Sandy's form, faded away.

Heaving, Jack rose to his knees and pressed his hand against the gash, feeling the slick, sickening stream of blood leaking from the wound and staining his pale skin. The reaction was almost immediate, his world twisting before his very eyes as he lifted his head. The reality he knew sank away like a boat in the sea, swallowed by the waves of madness that caught in his throat, pushed through his nose, filled his lungs and drowned him alive.

A flare of golden flames snapped at him and he hurled himself away from them, blinking widely. As the fire latched onto his arm, he felt as though he was burning, his flesh melting down to the bone, the flames eating him alive. Screeching, Jack tore his arm away from them, lurching backwards and breathing wildly as if he was fighting just to keep the breath in his lungs. He thought he could see frantic figures being made in the flames, but he was much too panicked to make any of them out clearly.

Everything was dark besides that blazing singularity, the walls falling away and bringing him back to the void he'd once gone through not too long ago. Already, he could feel it sucking the air from his lungs, closing in on him and expanding all the parts of his mind, body, and soul at the same time, as if he were taffy being manipulated by the very universe that birthed his existence. He could feel the void reaching for him, threatening to tear him apart, hands and claws scraping against his skin, shadows replacing the marrow in his bones, and he screamed because it was all he could do.

The flames grew closer once again and Jack, in all his delirium, struck out at them with his fists until they backed away again. Senseless and afraid, he turned and ran from the fire, sprinting off into the void.

He didn't stop until he couldn't go on any longer, his legs giving out from under him, collapsing to the hardened floor that he could barely conceive the existence of. Everything was dark and he felt blind, reaching out wildly to pull off the hands that reached for him, hardly aware that he was only grabbing at his own clothes and scratching his own skin. Retching, nothing came forth, but he was sure there was poison inside him. He stuck his fingers down his throat and tried again, but still nothing came up, and he was too tired to try again, reduced to a hysterical pile on the floor. The entire existence of being was shifting around him, warping his view of reality, infecting his brain to the point that he couldn't maintain a grip on what was real and what was not.

Somewhere deep down in his lightly buried subconscious, Jack knew that what he was experiencing was just a lie, nightmarish illusions brought on by the poison the Fearling stabbed into him, but his mind was an enigma.

"It's fine," he whispered to himself, his words coarse and shaken. "It's fine, it's fine, it's fine." He continued to repeat the mantra until they were the only words in his head, the only thing he could continue to think. It was a slower-working coping method he'd used in the past whenever he'd be overcome with an attack of claustrophobia with no one around to clear his head of his pathological fear. He'd fought with hallucinations before, dealt with the terrifying paranoia that there were hands reaching out for him and desert sands filling his insides. If he told himself it was fine long enough, he might just trick some part of himself into believing it, even when he knew things were most certainly not fine. Not at all.

At nowhere near the point of stability, Jack was violently thrown from his thoughts when something hard struck him in the stomach. The impact was swift enough to send him reeling across the floor until he slammed into a wall he could hardly believe existed, not in the void. He wheezed, saw stars dancing across his vision like the lick of flames, recoiled from the hand that reached out for him. As he was pulled roughly to his unresponsive feet, fear pooled through him as the the features of the one holding him closer than arm's length were hardly discernible. They were sharp edges, vibrant eyes, deadly fangs.

The voice that spoke too close to his face was full of the venom that coursed through his veins. "Jackson, I am _very_  unhappy." The voice stabbed daggers into his very core, rocking his body with trembles that wouldn't stop. "You set the star free, didn't you? You're the cause of his freedom, aren't you?"

Jack opened his mouth, but only a whimper found its way past his lips. There was too much happening. This woman looked like a monster straight out of his worst nightmares, the darkness surrounding her like an aura of despair. Somehow, he knew it was his mother, but recognizing that and acknowledging that she was real didn't make him feel any better about the predicament.

"Oh, Jackson, what's wrong?" his mother cooed. She used her free hand to touch his cheek, her blaringly bright silver eyes burning into his own. "Are you hurt?" Her finger trailed slowly down, his flesh rotting under her feathery-light touch, a dull, burning sensation, and then a following numbness. He thought he could smell death on her, on himself, and it nearly made him retch again. When she reached the wound on his chest, her nails dug into gash and all the pain that'd faded away suddenly swarmed up to the surface, rising through his throat, passing with a scream of agony. She continued to dig, twisting, gnarling where he'd been marked with a Fearling's claws. The delusion of death faded with the pain brought on by just being alive in that moment, the sharp, irony smell of blood surpassing the false scent of rot.

His mother retracted her hand, released her grip on his shirt, and Jack fell to the ground with quivers of pain shaking his form. The exhaustion of running so far for so long, the pain of the wounds passed onto him, the intensity of existing returned to him and he let out a strangled gasp in order to breathe past it. With every rise and fall of his chest, he could still feel the imprint of her nails inside him. However, as he rose his head to gaze up at her, his mind cleared. He realized the shock of such intense agony outdid the fuzzy, muddled madness that threatened to eat away at his sanity until nothing was left. He could still feel it there, but it was like low-tide at the beach, and the waves of lunacy had receded to the shore and could not quite reach him again, not yet.

"Stand," his mother ordered. She stepped away from him, her form melting into the shadows around her as it so often did.

The command did not fully process in his incomplete mess of a mind right away. In response, Jack continued to sit there, half-slack, leaned up against the wall like a broken marionette. "I can't-"

"Stand!" Her voice rose, booming, ricocheting off the walls that surrounded them. Somewhere beyond the dying echoes of her directive, Jack thought he might be able to hear the chittering of live shadows and could only imagine how long it would take before she let them have their way with him.

Even with the use of the wall as his support, standing proved just as hard as he knew it would be, but with no other options, he forced himself to try again and again until his legs stopped giving out on him. He could feel his mother's eyes on him, narrowed and silent. He had to wonder why she hadn't yet killed him herself, what she must be planning to do with him. She had no reason to hesitate, no reason to spare his life.

When Jack was finally standing as well as he could in his condition, his mother threw something that slid across the floor and came to a stop at his feet. He looked wearily down at it, eyebrows furrowed as he put forth the effort to lean down and pick the object up. It was a sword, short, sharp, and light-weight as he turned it carefully around in his hands. It was as plain as could be with not a single stray marking, no mysterious symbols carved into the blade or the handle, nothing out of the ordinary that might strike him as suspicious, which was suspicious in itself.

Frowning, he sent a questioning gaze back towards his mother. "What's this for?"

"We're going to play another game, Jackson," she explained, her tone as chilly as it ever was. He could no longer see the mother he once loved in her melted moonlight eyes. He could beg for her mercy, but he knew he wasn't lucky enough to get a break. "For the last time, we'll play a game of tag. Winner wins it all. And the loser?" She paused to think, finishing with a smile curving her lips. "I suppose we'll find out."

Before Jack could ask what she meant, she disappeared into the darkness once more. Sword in hand, Jack stepped away from the wall, gritting his teeth against the pain wracking his body. It nearly took every ounce of his conscious concentration to fight back the hallucinations threatening to dance before his vision. The shadows he thought he'd seen coming earlier were no longer there, and as he staggered to the center of the room, he paused to listen, to wait.

Shadows slithered across the floor like snakes closing in on their prey. He hadn't noticed their movement amongst the other shadows cast in the room until it was too late and they were grabbing his ankles, weighing him down and holding him still. As he raised the sword to slash away at them, hands wrapped their way around him, colder than the shadows ever were. One hand coiled around his neck, the other concealing his nose and mouth. The Fearlings on either side of him rose up from the ground at his feet and attached themselves to his arms, effectively stilling him.

Jack tried to struggle free, but his limbs were frozen, dragged down by ebony molasses. He could feel his systems weakening, the fog filling his head, darkness filling his vision as he tried to fight against the suffocation.

Just as the very last bits of his consciousness fell away, Jack heard the wind whisper in his ear. "You're it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the list of places to avoid when planning a vacation: the gaping void outside space and time.
> 
> I wonder what stage of grief is left for Jack to enter in next.
> 
> Thank you all for your comments and kudos!!


	17. Chapter 17

“Life is the tragedy. You know how they categorize Shakespeare’s plays, right? If it ends with a wedding, it’s a comedy. And if it ends with a funeral, it’s a tragedy. So we’re all living tragedies, because we all end the same way, and it isn’t with a goddamn wedding.”

— _Robyn Schneider, The Beginning of Everything_

\--

In a flash, the nightmares consumed him, _became_  him.

Upon Jack’s awakening, he felt the madness inside his head fall from its sudden spike in consciousness. He gasped for the breath that escaped him, sweat soaking his body, muscles aching to remind him of all the ways his body moved against his will. He felt wrong, somehow, as if there had recently been something inside of him, under his skin, moving his limbs without his permission. When he opened his eyes, the moonlight struck against the chandelier above him too brightly and he was forced to shut them again. A migraine pulsed against the walls of his brain, resenting the fact that he was finally coming to after the events that occurred; although he wasn’t quite sure what they might be quite yet, he could _feel_  it.

Vague, blurry movements darted behind his closed eyes. He thought they might be memories, but they played out like a disaster, and he was too traumatized to recall much of what went on. It was as if a parasite had taken him in his sleep and moved him like a zombie, where he could just barely see and feel, and only scarcely understand, the things that the illness forced him to do, but there was nothing he could do while it occurred, and now that it was over, it felt more like a dream than reality. The very idea of that scenario proving to be real made Jack’s stomach churn sharply. He had to twist onto his side to dry heave, but nothing came out.

Any more movement after that was slow and arduous. He felt like dead weight, a corpse left to rot after the host decided it was finished with his body. Again, he heaved, and again, nothing came out. His stomach was empty, his mouth was dry. He was too tired to even panic, still trying to sort out the details that came to pass during his mostly unconscious state, with the only memories coming to mind being images that were only different shades of darkness, a high-pitched screeching piercing straight to the core of his throbbing head, and his own jerky movements that still didn’t feel quite as real as his body was telling him it was.

It took another moment longer to notice Sandy standing close by his side, small hands wringing nervously together, face twisted in an expression Jack couldn’t quite read. He didn’t think the dreary, unnerved look suited his usually cheery disposition. When he noticed Jack was awake, Sandy jolted to his side, helping him into a sitting position and rubbing circles on his back that probably would have been more soothing if Jack hadn’t felt so numb and disoriented.

Squinting at the short man made of soft-glowing sand, Jack tried to find his words. “What happened?” He put a hand to his head, groaning lightly as his migraine spiked and dulled again with the sound of his voice. For once, he was grateful that Sandy couldn’t speak. “I remember my mom… I think it was her? She tried to kill me, didn’t she?” The hand on his head dropped to his throat, recalling the feeling of finely sharpened nails digging into him, cutting off his ability to breathe while the shadows glued his feet to the floor, his hands to his sides. “Did she- No.” He cut himself off with a shake of the head. "No, something happened after that. Did you save me?”

At the notion, Sandy looked regretful as he shook his head and glanced away so Jack couldn’t see the guilt scrawled in his golden eyes. Following his gaze, Jack was shocked to find blood pooling around him, slick and sticky under his hands and concealing a fine amount of sand. Looking down, he found it splattered across his clothes, crusted under his nails, and immediately started patting himself down for any signs of injuries. He found a few: those carved into his shoulders from his mother’s nails, the markings given to him by the Fearling who poisoned him, but even those were dry by then. Deep down, he knew they would scar and resented the shadows for tainting him both on his body and in his mind.

Chilled to the bone, Jack drew his hand away from the ebony sand soaked in blood and stared back at Sandy, who still couldn’t seem to meet his eye. “Sandy,” he quivered, fear rising, “what happened?”

Again, Sandy seemed to hesitate, but after a moment of stillness, he finally began moving his hands, conjuring up the images of golden sand above his head. In them, Jack saw himself followed by a sword, and then-

“Mom!” The terror spiked inside of him, causing his hands to tremble and his eyes to widen as he searched the dark room for her. The last clear memory he had was of her trying to suffocate him. It wouldn’t make sense that she would just leave him alive after all that happened, not after how angry he’d made her.

His gaze landed on something off towards the center of the room, lying just under the chandelier. The moonlight that came in through the large, rounded window illuminated only enough of it for him to recognize what it was. “Mom? Is that-?”

Breath catching in his hoarse throat, Jack forced his limbs to move. His muscles creaked under the strain, shifting as though they had rusted over time like a forgotten toy left to age alone on a child’s shelf. While on his feet, his legs threatened to give out under him. They barely carried him the way to the form sprawled out in the center of the room, having him all but collapse beside it on the cold floor of stone.

There was no denying that the form belonged to his mother. She lied on her back, one hand pressed weakly against her stomach, the other draped out along her side. Just hovering his hands over her, desperate and shaky and unsure of what to do, Jack could feel the wintry essence drafting up from her unnaturally cold skin. Her eyes were shut and he would have been sure she was dead if it weren’t for the very slight rise and fall of her chest. By her side sat a discarded sword, its blade still wet with blood. Jack stared at it, fists opening and closing as he recalled the feel of the hilt in his hands, the weight of it-

- _as it thrust clean through her_ -

His mother had given him that sword before she forced him to pass out. That sword had been in his hands, and now it laid out by the side of his mother’s shuddering form.

“Mom?” His voice was barely a whisper, a quiet tone passing through the silent room.

As if stirred by the sound of Jack’s voice, his mother’s eyes fluttered open, unfocused, more amber than they were silver, closer to the eyes of the mother he once knew. Softly, she smiled. “Jack, I’m glad,” she whispered back. The weakness in her voice made Jack want to crumple. Some part of him knew it could just be another trick of hers, another cruel game to play with his heartstrings and drown him in his own despair, but it felt too real. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I- I don’t-” Jack had to pause to swallow the dust in his throat. “This- This isn’t real, right? It’s a trick?” His voice trembled, his hands closed around each other just to keep themselves from shaking so uncontrollably. He felt the panic inside him subside for a greater sense of anguish. A biting desperation tried to fight its way to the surface, but it shook his words and made it too hard to speak, so he had to force it back down again with the little strength he had left in his body. “What’s happening?”

“We played a game,” she replied, looking pained as she tried to bring forth the words. He wondered how long she’d been lying there with the gaping wound in her stomach, slowly bleeding out while her son slept only a few feet away. “I lost.”

“A game?!” He practically screeched it, voice high and wavering as he fought to gain control of himself. “This isn’t a _game_! You- You’re- Look at you!” The ice in his veins solidified, freezing him from the inside out. His breaths came out short and quick even though he felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. If it was a trap, he would have been the easiest prey, as his whole world was on the woman lying on the floor. The shadows could have been closing in around him and none of it would’ve mattered, not even if they decided to swallow him whole. In that moment, he may have let them.

Feeling like a child watching the world fall to ruins, Jack forced himself to ask, “Is this real?”

“I’m dying,” she confirmed, and Jack thought the rug had been swept out from under him.

He’d thought for years that his mother was as good as dead. He had all that time to accept it, to mourn, to move on and settle for the goal of simply finding his sister. Discovering that his mother was still very much alive had been like finding diamonds buried in gold. Over time, he’d come to realize that this woman was not the mother he once knew, the mother he once loved and cherished with all his heart and soul, the mother who read him bedtime stories and tucked him in at night, the light when all he could see was dark, the stars scattered across his night sky. She used to be his everything, along with Olivia, and even when he knew she wasn’t the same, _couldn’t_  ever be the same, some part of him had always thought that as long as he had some version of her, he would be satisfied. Not happy, perhaps, but maybe it would be enough; even if she spent every day trying to tear his limbs from his body, it would be enough.

All at once, he felt so young, the years of his sorrow chipping away at his core until he was just a child again, sitting at his mother’s side as her soul slowly slipped away from her body. He felt like there was something he should’ve been doing to stop it, but he knew as well as she did that there was nothing either of them could do. She would die and that would be the end of it.

“Don’t cry, Jack,” she quietly chided. “I hate to see that sour look on your face.”

Jack tried to wipe the tears from his eyes with the palm of his shaky hand, but there were none to dry. He couldn’t bring himself to cry despite the floods flowing within him. “It wasn’t supposed to be this way,” he wailed, tears nearly threatening to drop and wet her grey-tinted cheek. “I was supposed to find you and Olivia and- I was going to _save_  you. I was going to find a cure.”

“Oh, Jack, there was never any cure.” She grimaced, a shudder coursing through her body. Her eyes briefly closed and Jack became very aware that these were her last words, that any breath could be her last. When her eyes opened again, they looked up towards the darkened ceiling. “It’s quiet.” A pause, followed by a teary-eyed smile. “They’re leaving. They can’t use an empty vessel. I can’t hear the voices anymore.”

Jack had no room for relief, only turmoil, but still he forced a smile for her sake. It faded as quickly as it came, but he knew she’d saw it by the way her expression softened. “What am I supposed to do without you?”

She turned her gaze towards him. “You’ve been doing without me all this time.” When he opened his mouth to argue, she quietly cut him off. “We don’t have time, Jack. I need…,” she faded momentarily. Jack feared she was gone until she took another shuddery breath, wincing as she fought against her body to stay alive for just a little longer. “I need to get you out.”

The hand not held over the wound in her stomach rose from the floor. It looked like it took every ounce of strength and concentration she had left in her. Jack tried to tell her to stop whatever it was she was trying to do, but she adamantly ignored him, closing her eyes to center her focus.

Nearby, a portal of shadows opened, thick and solid amongst the inanimate ones that filled the rest of the room. He could feel it pulling at him, silently calling for him to pass through it.

As his mother’s hand dropped back to her side, Jack stared at her with wide, owlish eyes filled with unshed tears. “I did this to you,” he stated, sure of himself.

“No, Jack. _I_  did this to _you_.” Her breaths became shallow and further apart. She could no longer open her eyes, but still, she found her voice to speak just one last time. “Thank you, Jack.”

She passed before Jack’s eyes. He watched the very last breath leave her body and continued to stare long after her chest no longer rose. Shutting his eyes against the grief that dwelled deep and dark within him, Jack reached for her cold, lifeless hand with his own trembling ones, holding it against his heart as if it was the only thing that kept it beating—even though it was the very thing that made it want to stop. And still, the tears would not come.

Without knowing how much time had passed—although it couldn’t have been very long—something tapped against Jack’s shoulder. He felt numb to it, but opened his eyes anyway to see what it might be. Sandy stood just behind him, a sorrowful, sympathetic look etched deeply in his features. When he met Jack’s eyes, he drew his hands down his own cheeks, looking concerned.

Jack shook his head. “There’s no time for crying,” he replied, swallowing the acid that lived inside him. He finally forced himself to drop his mother’s hand, looking away as he shakily rose to his feet. As he looked towards the portal, he wondered what might be on the other side. “That could lead anywhere, but it’s our only way out, so we don’t have another option.” He didn’t know how much longer it would last anyway with his mother having already passed. She said the shadows were starting to leave her as she lied there dying, so she must have used the last of what she still had of them to make that portal.

He walked towards it, but getting closer didn’t help show him what might be on the other side. It could be a moon or a planet, or the _Nova_  itself. On the other hand, it could just as easily be a sun, or a black hole, or simply the wide, open space. He could walk through it and right into a cold, oxygen-less death.

As he shifted, his foot tapped against the sword still lying on the ground. He considered taking it with him in case the other side of the portal lead right into danger, or if he would need it sometime later on if he didn’t die right away, but the idea of even touching it made his stomach knot and he decided he would rather have nothing to defend himself with at all if his only other option was using the same sword he’d used to kill his mother.

Behind him, Jack heard something like material being rubbed against something and turned to see Sandy with his hands over his mother’s lifeless body. Sand flowed from her form to his, starting out dark and turning just as golden as the rest of him when it came in contact with him.

“What are you doing?” Jack made no attempt to hide the dangerous edge in his voice, anger lighting his icy eyes. “Don’t touch her.” When Sandy continued on with no notice he'd even heard what was being said to him, Jack grabbed the bloodied sword from the ground despite the nausea it gave him to even feel it in his hands again. He aimed it towards the star threateningly. “Get away!”

When he slashed it through the air, Sandy jumped away in time to avoid being harmed. He looked up at Jack with wide eyes, quickly holding his hands up to show he meant no harm and wasn’t looking for a fight.

Breathing heavily, Jack’s expression twisted from one of anger to one of regret. The sword fell from his shaking hands, making noise as it landed on the stone floor littered with his mother’s blood. He took a step back from it, then another, before turning away altogether. Steeling himself, he spoke tightly through his teeth, tone quiet and steely. “Let’s just get out of here before it’s too late.”

Before he could talk himself out of it, Jack stepped through the portal without looking back.

The sensation of traveling through the portal was a chilling one, not quite something Jack could describe. It was like stepping through a door and into a short hallway before finding another open door at the other end, only the passage to and from each 'door' felt blank, like a lapse in time. It was dark and empty, but void of anything in particular. This one was much different than the one the shadows pulled him through when they took him from the _Nova_. There weren't any hands grabbing at his clothes, no pools of darkness spilling down his throat, no overwhelming fear of being torn apart as he violently spiraled through it all, which would probably explain why he'd passed out during that time.

When Jack stepped tentatively out of the portal, he was relieved to find himself on solid ground. Unfortunately, it wasn't anything like the _Nova_  at all. There weren't any metal floors or bronze-colored walls, no electronic systems, not even people as far as he could tell. He quickly realized he was standing in a large clearing between trees. After being cooped up in such a dusty, dark, old building for so long, the fresh air made him feel like he hadn't truly breathed the entire time he was there. The first thing he made sure to do was take in a deep breath of clean, crisp air, almost smiling at the breeze that whipped at his milky locks.

"It's been a long time since I've been outside," he said when he heard footsteps behind him.

Sandy came up by his side, breathing just as Jack had done a moment before. He nodded in agreement, kneeling down to pick up a pile of dirt, letting it fall through his fingers as if he just needed to make sure it was all real. He tilted his head up, squinting against the sun that seemed just about ready to set, painting a canvas of colors from pinks, to purples, to blues across the sky.

Jack was sad to see that it was nearly night on the planet, whichever one they were on. He'd been stuffed up in the darkness for so long, both in his mother's lair and on the airship, that natural light felt good on his paper-pale skin. As he took a step forward, he glanced over his shoulder at the portal that hadn't yet closed. A long, drawn-out sigh rolled out of him, his posture deflating, the weight of his troubles falling over his tired eyes. He wondered, just briefly, if he could go back, if it would be so easy to return from the hell he'd just left by just stepping through an open doorway. He wondered if it had all been a dream, an elaborate nightmare induced by the nightmare sand he could still feel the last bits of in his hair, if his mother was alive and laughing at him from the other side, if he would pass out and wake up in bed in the lair again, doomed to a life of imprisonment.

But he felt the breeze brush over his skin again and his dreams had never felt so real, not even the ones caused by the sand. He knew, _knew_ , that this was the real world, and when he opened his eyes after sleep, he would wake up and continue his reality from that point on, day after day, year after year, until his death.

"She's really gone," he whispered, his words falling short of the wind. He could feel Sandy's eyes on him, nervously watching from his side to see if he might lash out again, but Jack didn't have the strength to be overemotional. Everything felt so heavy and his insides felt so suddenly hollow, and all he really wanted to do was sleep.

Drawing away from the portal, Jack turned his back on it. "We should find a safe place to sleep." He scratched his head and looked around, thinking that even a pile of leaves might do if it weren't for the concern of the unknown. "Do you have any idea where we are?"

Sandy shrugged and shook his head. After yawning, he closed his eyes and cupped his hands like a pillow by his head.

"We can't sleep here," Jack frowned, eyes scanning the woods around them for any signs of danger. There were birds and smaller woodland creatures that he recognized, but nothing that seemed particularly dangerous.

Despite what Jack said, Sandy had laid down at the soldier's feet and already appeared to be dozing on the cold, dirty ground. The only noise he seemed to make was a light snoring sound, but that could have just been the way he was breathing. Above his head, Jack was amused to note, were minuscule symbols that seemed to broadcast his dreams. Small cats made of sand chased balls of yarn in circles, even smaller hearts appearing over their heads. Any other time, Jack would have chuckled and carried him to safety, but he wasn't in the mood to carry the weight of another when he could barely carry himself, so instead he tapped the star with his foot, frowning when golden eyes met with his own icy blues.

Yawning again, Sandy seemed to get the message that he wasn't going to get what he wanted and begrudgingly pulled himself to his feet, slumping over as he followed a few feet behind Jack. Despite his much shorter legs, he didn't seem to have much trouble keeping up with the tall boy.

They barely walked any more than ten minutes before Jack came to an abrupt stop, squinting at a tree a short distance away. Too tired to notice, Sandy bumped into the back of his legs, stopping to give him a curious look. An image of a house appeared over his head to ask if they'd found shelter, but Jack shook his head, silent as he walked towards the tree. It was as normal as any other tree he'd ever seen, tall and looming with branches ripe for climbing if he had half a mind to. Only, something stood out in particular above all else. At chest height to himself, there was a heart scrawled into the bark that'd been chipped away so it would be easier to see the carvings. Inside the heart were the letters, _"_ _J + J."_  Jack touched the words lightly, running them under his fingertips as his eyes were drawn to the other markings littering the tree. There were mostly other hearts with a variety of letters drawn inside.

A deep-rooted sense of nostalgia tugged from the hollow parts inside him and Jack found himself staring at all the individual carvings in the tree for much longer than he'd meant to. When he looked up, the sun had fallen behind the sky and Sandy was dozing off on the ground again.

As he looked beyond the tree, he could see houses and buildings in the distance. Knowing that there would people living inside of them, people he knew, made his cold heart skip a beat. He was torn between wanting to go and seek sanctuary, and wanting to turn back around and go the other way. He wasn't sure he could face people yet, especially not anyone he knew.

As he brought his hand up to the throbbing wound in his chest, Jack closed his eyes and made a decision. "Sandy," he called, feeling guilty for waking the star up for the second time, "come on. I know where we can sleep. It's just a little further."

Sandy yawned as he stumbled along by Jack's side. Watching him made Jack wonder just how old he was. While he sort of looked like he was older, like someone in their mid-20's to early-30's, it was really hard to tell for sure. Then again, stars probably didn't age the same. He could be just as ageless as the shadows were as far as Jack knew.

Luckily, when they arrived to the small town, there weren't very many people out wandering around. Even though the sun had just recently gone down, most people were probably inside having dinner, or going to sleep early if they had to get up early in the morning for work. Noticing that Jack seemed to be tense, a few question marks of concern appeared over Sandy's head, as if to ask him what was wrong.

Shrugging it off, Jack wrung his hands together, keeping a look out for anyone he might recognize so he could quickly avoid them. He wasn't in the mood for a conversation or for catching up. He just wanted a place to sleep for the night so he could work towards getting back to the _Nova_  in the morning.

"I used to live here," he explained. Sandy brightened in surprise, his mouth forming a small 'o.' "I've visited a few times since I joined the army, but it's been over a year since I last dropped by. When we're granted leave during lulls in suspicious activity, my friend and I used to come here. I recognized it when we passed that tree with all the drawings; all the kids in town used to carve their crushes in it. We used to think it was good luck."

A heart bubbled up over Sandy's head and he smiled dreamily. Jack ignored him, rolling his eyes as he scanned the homes they passed. When another house appeared over Sandy's head, his message was unclear until he pointed to Jack.

Shaking his head, Jack grimaced. "No, I don't have a home here anymore. We're going to my friend's house."

It didn't take much longer for them to find the place he was looking for. He stood outside the door, feeling more nervous than he knew he had any right to be. It wasn't like there strangers living inside. He'd known Jamie's family since he was a little kid. They used to have him for sleepovers and feed him meals. He used to think Jamie's mother was a better cook than his own, but he never mentioned that out loud.

Sandy leaned against him, using his leg as a prop to keep himself upright as his eyes slipped closed once again. Jack took it as a sign that he was taking too much time, so he finally steeled his nerves and knocked at the door. When there weren't any noises from inside, he almost worried he hadn't knocked loud enough and prepared to try again when the door suddenly swung open. A woman in plaid, wearing glasses with her brunette hair up in a messy bun, stood in the doorway, hazel eyes wide as she stopped mid-sentence when she saw who it was on her doorstep.

"Jack!" she spluttered. He saw her pause to take in his full appearance, from his torn and tattered clothes stained with blood, to the wounds embedded in his skin. "Jack- I- What-"

He gave her his best smile, teeth and all, as he leaned heavily against the doorframe. "Hey, Ms. Bennett. Been a while, huh?"

"Been a-" She shook her head, moving away from the doorway to usher him inside. "Jack, get in here! What happened to you?"

With no room to complain, Jack did as he was told, trailing a sleepy-eyed star made of sand behind him. "It's a long story," he yawned. "I'd love to share the details, but if you don't mind, what I'd really like is a nice, long nap."

Standing in Ms. Bennett's clean, organized home with dirt and blood caked all over his messy attire, Jack felt both like a burden and terribly out of place. He shifted awkwardly when she didn't reply right away, her eyes shooting between him and Sandy, before she finally recognized that Jack didn't seem to be immediately dying and allowed herself to relax a margin.

"There's no way I'm letting you sleep like that," she argued, the clipping tone he remembered all too well rising to surface. "We need to get you cleaned up. I'll run a bath and get you a change of clothes. Jamie won't mind if you wear a pair of his. Wait here and just- just don't, don't touch anything, okay?"

Biting his lip, he gave her a nod, standing still as Sandy continued to nod off, quiet as ever. He seemed to be completely accepting of any situation he happened to be put in, content to fall asleep right there on the floor if he wasn't conscious enough to obey the woman's words.

Ms. Bennett returned a moment later, shooing Jack into the bathroom where a hot bath was being drawn. "I left the change of clothes on the sink. They're something to sleep in, loose enough so they hopefully won't agitate any of your wounds." She frowned, brow furrowing in concern as she reached out for the one on his chest, stopping her hand inches away from touching it so she wouldn't cause him any more pain. "I'll get you something for that, but for now, enjoy your bath. You're filthy." Before shutting the door, she looked over her shoulder at the glowing golden man made of sand standing drooped over in her living room. "Er, is there anything I can do for your...friend?"

"His name's Sandy," Jack replied, already stripping his shirt. There wasn't much left of it, anyway. "I don't think he needs much. He's harmless, so you don't have to worry about him. I think he just wants to sleep for now." When she gave a slow nod, still looking high-strung after finding her son's friend on her doorstep covered in blood and littered with wounds, Jack gave her another smile in the hopes that it would calm her down. "I'm sorry about dropping in like this. I'll explain in the morning. Thank you."

"Just worry about yourself," she retorted, straightening. "I'll go see if your- if Sandy wants anything. If I don't hear from you after a while, I'll be in to check on you so you don't sleep in the bath overnight."

When the door shut behind him, Jack let out a sigh and turned towards the tub. He stripped the rest of the clothes from his body, dropping the stiff, filthy articles of clothing to the floor to deal with later, although he doubted he would bother wearing them again. Testing the water, he was pleased to find it steamy, a little on the hot side. As he slowly and carefully lowered himself into the bath, his wounds hissed in agony at the temperature, but he ignored them for the pleasant sensation of his muscles unwinding with the warmth that surrounded them. He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually felt warm. While his insides were still a winter storm, at least his outsides could experience a sunny day.

Although he knew Ms. Bennett told him otherwise, Jack allowed himself to drift off, his eyes slipping closed as he sank to get further under the water, stopping when it reached his chin. There was a light dusting of bubbles from whatever type of soap Ms. Bennett put in the water, tinting the bath a faint mix of pinks and purples. The aroma was sweet, like daisies. It rose up and tickled his nose, softly guiding him to sleep as his consciousness began to fade and the worries of his day started to drift with the-

"I'm back!" The sing-songy voice of Ms. Bennett broke through the sweet silence like the blade of a guillotine, effectively startling Jack from his soon-to-be slumber. He stared wide-eyed at the door where she stood, shamelessly inviting herself inside and shutting the door behind her without a second thought. When she saw the flustered look on his face, she raised a fine brow. "What's the matter? I told you I'd be back, didn't I?" She held up a bottle of ointment. "We're going to take a look at that nasty gash."

When she came closer, even dropping to her knees beside the tub, Jack's cheeks tinted a fine shade of pink as he quickly gathered up all the bubbles he could to cover his private areas. " _Ms. Emily!_  I'm kind of-"

"What? Naked?" She barked a laugh, waving a hand to brush it off in a way that was much too casual for Jack's liking. "Jack, sweetie, you know I raised Jamie. I practically helped raised you, too. I've seen every inch of my boy. There's nothing you have that I don't already know about, so there's no need to be all panicky."

Her lax composure did nothing to soothe Jack's overall embarrassment at having a grown woman so close to him while he was stark naked. "Can this wait 'till I'm at least dressed?" The bubbles were starting to disperse and it was getting harder and harder to keep them gathered together.

Ms. Bennett replied with a firm shake of her head, reaching behind her to get a pack of bandages from the cabinet under the sink. "No, this is top priority. Besides, I'm sure after your bath, you'll want to go straight to sleep and we can't risk infection overnight. Now is the best time to take care of it." She adjusted her black-rimmed glasses as she leaned in to get a better look at the wound. "These look like...claws? What did this to you?"

She sounded more like she was talking to herself than she was actually expecting an answer, so Jack didn't give her one. He was too tired to go through the details. He wasn't sure if he even could, especially not emotionally; not yet, maybe not for a long time.

"This might sting, but bare with me. If it gets to be too much, let me know."

She grabbed a wash cloth and dipped it in the tub (to Jack's further discomfort). When she dabbed at the wound, Jack flinched away, an involuntary hiss seeping past his tightly clenched teeth as the pain flared up again. Ms. Bennett apologized under her breath as she continued to run water over the wound as gently as she could. Jack held his breath when she first started out, but after he got used to her petal-like pressure, he allowed himself to relax. He knew she would never mean to harm him, especially when she was trying to help above all else, but the road to trust had been damaged long ago and now even Jamie's mother put him on edge.

Bits of blackened sand and droplets of blood dirtied the water over time, but when Ms. Bennett pulled away, the wound looked much better than it had originally. Still, Jack grimaced at the thought of the scar it would leave behind, among the others he'd already received. Many soldiers valued battle wounds. They would show them off and brag about their origins to any who would care to listen, comparing their amounts of scars to their strengths, but Jack didn't feel the same. He didn't want a reminder of the foes he'd faced, of the battles he'd fought. He just wanted to wake up one day and be cleared of all the troubles he'd gone through.

To finish off, Ms. Bennett gently rubbed a thick, sticky ointment over the wound. It reeked of mint strong enough to clear his sinuses, but it wasn't unbearable. When she was done, she placed a large bandage over the gash.

"That should do for now. Make sure to keep it clean. The medical supplies are always kept in the cabinet under the sink." She gave him a tired smile, reaching up to brush his hair back from his face. Again, Jack flinched away from her touch, and he felt guilty when she frowned. "I'm sorry. You must have gone through something awful. I can see it in your eyes."

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

"Don't be, Jack. Whatever it is you've gone through, you have every right to have your reactions." She grabbed a clean washrag and dipped it in the water like the last. "Tilt your head so I can clean the rest and get you out of here. You can sleep in Jamie's room. You know he won't mind."

Jack did what she asked, letting out a shaky sigh when she ran water over the marks in his shoulders. "You know," Ms. Bennett went on, "I don't get a lot of visitors anymore, so when I heard the knock at the door, I hoped it would be you and Jamie. It's been a while since you two last visited. I was starting to miss your company."

"Nobody's been given off time for a while. We've been keeping busy," Jack replied. "How's Sophie doing? Did you already put her to bed?"

Sighing lightly, Ms. Bennett dropped her hand away. "Sophie's doing fine. I put her to bed early because she wasn't feeling well earlier. She misses Jamie more than anything, though. I wish he hadn't gone away, but you know how he is. Stubborn, like you." She smiled and put the supplies away where they belonged, getting to her feet and brushing herself off. "I'll let you finish your bath. Don't fall asleep in here." Pausing to yawn, she gave him the courtesy of looking away so he could stop squirming at her new angle. "Sandy seemed fine with taking the couch. If you need anything—food, water, whatever you want—you know where to find it. I'm going to go to bed myself."

"Goodnight," Jack called.

"Goodnight, Jack."

Once again sitting alone, Jack quickly finished his bath and dried himself off so he could get into the nice, clean pair of clothes. They were soft, made of cotton, baby blue with white clouds all over them. Not exactly Jack's style, but all he really cared about was that they were comfortable, which they were. He used to tease Jamie for wearing matching pajama sets like that, while he personally preferred sleeping around in a suspiciously-clean pair of boxers and an old shirt he rarely bothered to wash.

Outside, he could see small symbols of sand circling Sandy's head as the star dreamed. Jack stayed quiet as he wandered down the hall towards Jamie's room. Finding it was easy when he knew the layout of the house like the back of his hand. He knew it better than he knew the _Nova_.

As he collapsed on the bed, his thoughts ceased to be. The moment his head hit the pillow, he was out like a light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ms. Overland should have read the chapter about the dangers of sleepwalking.
> 
> I know it was only stated once, Ms. Bennett's first name is Emily. Like with Olivia, it's the name of her (and Jack's mother's) voice actor from the movie, so I just went with that.
> 
> Thank you for all the comments and kudos! I love every single one!! Seriously, you guys are great ;o;


	18. Chapter 18

“The greatest hazard of all, losing one’s self, can occur very quietly in the world, as if it were nothing at all. No other loss can occur so quietly; any other loss- an arm, a leg, five dollars… etc. - is sure to be noticed.”

_—Søren Kierkegaard, The Sickness Unto Death_

\--

The brightest pair of glimmering green eyes met with Jack’s dazed blues first thing in the morning. Startled from his sleep, just jolting out of a forgotten nightmare to find the weight of someone pushing down on top of him, his first reaction was to scream in alarm and shove them off the bed. The little girl screeched as she toppled backwards and hit the hard, wooden floor with an almost concerning _thump_.

The door to Jamie’s room flew open as Ms. Bennett, already dressed for the day, came storming in to see what the danger was. Her wide, hazel eyes landed immediately on her fallen child, whom she helped up off the floor. “What happened here? Sophie, did you fall?” She checked her daughter for any signs of injury, but, like most children, Sophie was quite durable and it would take a lot more than a three-foot fall to the floor to put her out of commission.

Drawing her attention away from Sophie, Ms. Bennett darted her gaze up towards Jack, whose initial panic was just starting to die down as the haze of sleep began to fade. When she saw the wild look in his eyes, her expression softened. “Did she come in to wake you? I’m sorry.”

Blinking his way into reality, Jack quickly shook his head. “No, it’s fine. It’s my fault. I should’ve been expecting her.” Only, he hadn’t been expecting any of this at all. He was almost positive that all the events of the previous day had only been a dream, and that he would wake up from his fretful slumber to find himself back in the realm of shadows where his mother was still very much alive and very much out to get him any chance she could. He expected to find himself face-to-face with a Fearling ready to tear new holes in his skin, not a sweet little girl he once knew. Leaning forward, he gave said girl an apologetic frown. “Sorry, Sophie. I didn’t know it was you.”

“Who else would it be?” she scoffed, brushing the dust off her nightgown and straightening her stance to show her mother she was just fine, thank you.

 _A nightmare_ , Jack thought in reply, swallowing the bile that’d gathered in his throat. He willed his heart to stop racing, his mind to stop coming up with more and more crazy delusions to convince him that none of this was real, that he was still trapped and was just having a really realistic nightmare, that any minute now Sophie’s eyes would hollow out of her skull and the rag in Ms. Bennett’s hands would form into a sword with a vicious blade. There was sunlight pouring in through the window and birds chirping outside. All around him were signs of life that hadn’t been there before. He had to relax. He had to believe it was real. If he didn’t, they would win.

“Jack?” Sophie’s small, disquieted voice broke the spell falling over him. As he returned to the situation at hand, he found two sets of eyes watching him from a short distance away.

He realized he’d never replied. “I’m fine,” he said finally. An empty smile fought its way to his lips as if he knew his words alone weren’t enough to convince them. “I guess I’m still half-asleep. Sorry, Sophie, I didn’t mean to push you off the bed.”

She didn’t seem very happy about it, but her excitement from seeing Jack in her brother’s bed won out over her sour mood in the end. Just to make sure, Jack reached over and tousled her mess of blonde hair, drawing a smile out of her despite her protests as she shoved his hand away. When he pushed his legs over the edge of the bed, she took the opportunity to hug him tightly, a broad grin splitting her face. He couldn’t help but laugh softly as he gave her a hug in return.

A voice in the back of his mind told him not to compare her to Olivia. It would only lead to more heartbreak. He could hug the sister of his friend, but not his own. Sophie’s eyes were sparkling; they were the brightest color of spring, full of life, and wonder, and hope. Where Olivia’s were once spirited pools of melted milk chocolate, as sweet as the candy itself, Jack’s last memory of them were hollowed out concaves of dust and darkness, of emptiness and regrets. He had no chance to hold her hand, or see her smile, or pull her into a hug, not at all like he could with Sophie. They were too different, and in trying to compare the two, it was like snapping scissors on the threads that held his heart together.

“Sophie, we should leave Jack to get some more rest,” Ms. Bennett said. “It’s still early. He had a long night.”

Sophie opened her mouth to protest, but it was Jack who spoke first. “It’s fine, Ms. Bennett.” He let out a long, exaggerated yawn. “Now that I’m up, I’m up for good.”

Sophie beamed up at him for the response, drawing another small smile out of him. She grabbed him by the hand and pulled him to his feet, dragging him out of bed. “I’ve got everything to show you! I found more snails for my collection, and we got a pet bunny! I named him Brownie ‘cause he’s brown all over. Mommy wanted to call him Astral 'cause of the astral flowers that’re brown when it snows, but flower names are for girls and bunnies eat flowers.”

Just before she could fully drag him out of the room, they were stopped by Ms. Bennett, blocking their path in the hall. “You can show him Brownie later. I know you’re excited, but first comes breakfast.” She met Jack’s gaze, smile wrinkling her eyes. “Are you up for eating?”

Even though he hadn’t eaten properly for a while, Jack didn’t feel all that hungry. After eating three meals a day every day for the past couple of years, he thought he should’ve been starving for going so long in-between meals as he’d done lately, but his stomach still hadn’t quite settled after all he’d gone through. He didn’t want to be rude by rejecting her invitation to eat, however, so he nodded anyway. “I could eat.”

When they reached the kitchen, Sophie talking all the while, the three of them were surprised to find a certain dull-glowing man made of sand rummaging freely through the fridge as if he'd lived there his whole life. Initially, Sandy was oblivious to his audience, made obvious by the way he gathered all the food he could carry in his short arms. With his free hand, he shoved half a bundle of grapes into his mouth, and when he pulled them out, his cheeks puffed like a chipmunk's before he chewed through them all and swallowed. It wasn't until Sophie, who'd stopped mid-sentence when she saw him, eyes sparkling with all the wonder a seven-year-old could contain without bursting at the seams, whispered an awed, under the breath, "What is  _that_?," that he took notice that he was no longer alone.

When Sandy bothered to glance behind him, Jack stood with his arms crossed, brow raised, while Ms. Bennett didn't seem to know how to react. Realizing the company, Sandy quickly went about shoving all the food he'd taken back into the fridge, fumbling half of it to the floor, while the other half crammed together on the shelves and made it nearly impossible to close without the door swinging open again. Noting the issue, the star pushed his body against the door, crossing his arms over his chest to come across as casual as possible, a cheeky smile playing on his face as he gave the trio a short wave. Jack was sure that if the star could, he would be blushing.

Not at all intimidated by this new creature, Sophie was the first to break the tension as she darted to his side. Her hands went about tugging his hair and pulling his arms, rubbing his cheeks with her hands and giggling about the rough feeling they had. "What are you? You're funny looking! I like you."

She started slapping her hands against his cheeks before Sandy started sending off images of exclamation points, golden eyes darting to Jack in a silent plea for help.

Jack only replied with a helpless shrug. "Sorry, man. There's nothing I can do about it."

Ms. Bennett looked concerned, still not entirely trustworthy of this strange creature in her home, especially not with her young daughter standing so close to him. "Sophie, maybe you should, er, leave Mr. Sandy alone. I don't think he likes you doing that."

While Sophie stopped smacking her hands against Sandy's cheeks, she continued to squish them together. "Mr. Sandy? Mr. Sandy! You feel like sandpaper. Is that why they call you Mr. Sandy? Because you're made of sand? Why are you made of sand?" Her attention was drawn up to the symbols frantically appearing over his head, another breath of awe leaving her. "How are you doing that?"

Laughing softly, Jack stepped up beside them. Although, he still made no move to separate them or relieve Sandy of his new troubles. "He likes to play charades."

"Ohhh." Frowning, Sophie tilted her head and dropped her hands away. "What's the matter? Can't you speak? Are you okay?" She put the back of her hand against his forehead to check for his temperature, suddenly genuinely concerned with the condition of this strange man she'd only just met.

Sandy smiled and nodded his head, pressing a finger to his lips. With the room she'd given him, although it wasn't much, he moved his hands between them and conjured an image of a small horse that quickly left his palms and galloped around her head, a thin trail of golden sand following behind as it circled around her. When it worked well enough to get her attention, the horse lead away from the fridge and to the outskirts of the kitchen. Where the horse went, Sophie followed, laughing and mesmerized.

Even Ms. Bennett seemed surprised to see such a thing. Her eyes followed it as Sophie chased it around the living room. Whenever she got too close, it would circle her head and change directions.

"What...is he?" she murmured. Behind her glasses, her eyes were wide as she looked back to Sandy, who had the fridge door open again so he could rearrange the food to fit without having to hold the door closed. The concern she had before faded into a genuine fascination. "I've seen some strange things, but I've never seen anything like him before."

Jack snorted at her side. "That makes two of us." He hesitated to continue, unsure on how wise it would be to divulge the fact that Sandy was a shooting star. Obviously, he was a being of magic, but knowing he could grant wishes might stir up even more questions from both the Bennett's, and he didn't exactly want to prolong his stay there any more than he needed to.

Of course, he didn't need to take Sandy with him. There was a good chance that the _Nova_  wasn't in the same coordinates it'd been in when he was taken from it, but he still had methods of finding it. There were control stations on several planets scattered all over their surfaces and all across the universe, so if there was any trouble, particularly with the shadows, Pitch could be informed immediately and they would come to take care of the situation. Sometimes they made it in time to protect the people; other times, they weren't so lucky, but it was still better than having nothing at all.

There was the still the issue of the wish he had yet to fulfill. A lot had happened in too short a time and Jack never had much time to consider what he would wish for now that he could wish for anything. Those with more intelligence than most would probably say wish making was just too risky, and that he would be better off not playing with fate like that, but Jack was no scholar and he was sure that there was a wish he wanted to make. He just didn't know what it was yet.

In the end, he supposed it wouldn't matter if he told the truth. It was the least he could do for letting him stay there. "He's a shooting star," he said finally, gaining a look of shock from Ms. Bennett.

"But, shooting stars aren't- I mean, that can't be true," she retorted, shaking her head in disbelief.

"I know. I said the same thing when I first found out, but he's the real deal." Jack gestured to the horse made of soft-glowing sand rubbing its forehead against Sophie's cheek in the other room. "Someone who can do something like that has to be made of magic."

"That's amazing," she marveled. "Truly amazing. Can- Can they really grant wishes?" When Jack and Sandy nodded in unison, she hummed at the notion. She had always been the curious type. The trait followed through in both her children, although she always insisted that there was a logical conclusion to every myth, mystery, or magic. "I suppose I owe Jamie an apology. All those years ago, when he was just a little thing, he told me he'd seen a shooting star and it granted his wish. I told him it was just coincidence that it ever came true, but maybe there was more to it after all."

Shaking her head like a mother reminiscing on the days of her child's youth, Ms. Bennett snapped herself out of it and scooted Sandy away from the fridge so she could pull out the food they would have for breakfast. "What would you boys like to eat?"

In answer, a plethora of images of various breakfast foods appeared and disappeared over Sandy's head as he licked his lips and rubbed his belly.

Laughing lightly, Ms. Bennett grabbed a handful of things and set them on the counter. "How about pancakes and eggs? I have fresh fruit to put on them, too, and you can have your choice of chocolate milk or coffee to get you ready for the rest of the day."

Nodding vigorously at the options, Sandy opted for chocolate milk as he grabbed the container of syrup, milk, and a glass from the cabinet and brought them to the table.

Ms. Bennett turned her smile to Jack. "How does that sound for you?"

"It sounds fine," he replied, giving her a tired one of his own. "And coffee for me. With lots of cream."

When breakfast was made, Ms. Bennett rounded Sophie up to take a seat at the table with the rest of them. She was sad to see the horse go away, but seeing all the food on her plate was enough to raise her spirits again. Meanwhile, Sandy enjoyed his glass of chocolate with milk. It was odd to Jack that he would even need food.

As things quieted down, Jack could feel the air change as Ms. Bennett eyed him from across the table. They sat facing each other, with Sandy at one end and Sophie at the other. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to avoid her gaze as he forced himself to swallow a pancake he wasn't hungry for. "How are you feeling, Jack?"

If she was going to try and ask him about what happened then and there, he wasn't ready for it. It made his head spin to think about the events that transpired, his stomach to clench, his palms to sweat. He wanted to block it all away from his mind, cram the details in a little box that he could lock up and lose the key. He wasn't sure he would ever be ready to talk about his mother dying, about the loss of both her and his sister twice over, about his experiences with them as they were their other, darker selves and not the people he once loved. And maybe it would be just fine never speaking aloud about it all. Saying it out loud made it real, and if he could keep silent, then it would be easier to call it all a dream. He'd dreamt it all and he would soon wake up on the _Nova_  like any other day, putting the nightmare behind him like the delusion that it was.

"Jack?"

He blinked, eyes wet with unshed tears as he stared down at his pancakes, soggy with syrup. When he glanced up, Ms. Bennett was staring in concern, and he couldn't help but sigh as he concluded that he just hadn't woken up yet, that even this had to be a dream if the rest of it was. It wouldn't be over until he returned to the _Nova_ , until he fell into Pitch's arms and used the way his fingers ran softly through his hair to believe in reality again. That was all he had left anymore.

"I'm fine," he replied, voice unsteady and unsure. "I was just spacing out. It's still early. I've never been a good morning person."

Ms. Bennett pursed her lips, unconvinced that he was telling the truth of his condition. She'd seen the way he'd looked when he stood on her doorstep the night before, marred with wounds and covered with blood, a lost and hollow look in his icy eyes. There would be no convincing her. "Jack, I-"

"It's _fine_ ," he insisted. The smell of food unsettled his stomach and the idea of eating any more made him nauseas, so he pushed his chair back from the table and grabbed his plate. "I guess I'm not as hungry as I thought I was. Thanks for breakfast, Ms. Bennett, but I think I should get ready to leave."

"Leave?" she echoed, rising from her seat to meet him by the sink. "Jack, you can't leave. I don't know where you intend on going, but you're in no condition to go running around. I know you're a soldier and all, but- but just look at you! Have you seen a mirror lately?" She reached out to touch his cheek, and even though he flinched, she cupped his face gently in the palm of her hand. "You have bags under your eyes, you're covered in wounds and bruises, and you're skinnier than I've ever seen you before." She dropped her hand away, voice softening. "I don't know what happened to you, and you don't have to tell me if you don't feel up to it, but please, don't leave. Not yet. Stay a while."

He couldn't meet her gaze, biting into his bottom lip. "I can't stay here. I have a duty. I need to get back to the airship." Some part of him wanted to stay. He knew he would feel so much better if he took a few more days to get some rest in a nice, warm bed and eat Ms. Bennett's delicious home cooked meals, but the longer the stayed, the longer the dream lasted, and he couldn't let it go on any further than it already had. His need to return to the _Nova_  was a desperate one. He feared that the memories of his mother would eat at him for every moment he remained there. If only he could just wake up in the face of normalcy, things could go back to the way they were supposed to be. He had to believe that. "I'm sorry, but it's what I need to do."

"In good conscience, I can't let you go," she sighed. "But I've known you most your life, and I know you're as stubborn as my own boy. When he set his mind to something, the whole town couldn't change his mind. The two of you together was a nightmare sometimes." Standing back from him, she sighed a second time, obviously already regretting what she was about to say. "How about you stay just one more night? You can contact your crew to find out where they are, and then leave with a caravel in the morning. I'll pack you a bag to get you there."

He knew he owed it to her to do at least that much, so he finally met her eyes and gave a short nod. "I can do that." He could endure the nightmare one night more.

She smiled, tight-lipped and gloomy. "Thank you, Jack."

"Yeah."

Behind them, Sophie looked away from the dolphin Sandy projected around her head to keep her busy so Jack and Ms. Bennett could have their talk. She pushed away from the table and brought her dirty dish to her mom, who thanked her and put it in the sink, before turning towards Jack with her wide, green eyes. "Where's Jamie?"

He smiled down at her. "Jamie's still on the airship with everyone else. He couldn't come with me to visit, but I'm sure he'd want me to tell you he misses you a lot."

"When will I see him again?"

He thought for a moment, wondering when they might get some time off. Things had been hectic for the Golden Army for a while, but he didn't think the shadows would be a problem for a while after what happened. They were considerably weakened when their vessel passed. It wouldn't be a wise idea for them to try attacking in the state he last saw them in. Although, really, he wasn't sure how quickly their rate of recovery might be. The optimistic thing to think was that they were gone for good, so weakened they would return to where they came from to exist in solitude, lacking enough strength to even attack the innocent, but Jack knew as well as anyone that optimism was for the ignorant, so they would still be on their guard.

"It shouldn't be too much longer," he replied honestly, hoping that it was the truth. Sophie deserved to see her brother and Jack knew Jamie missed her every day they were away from each other. Sophie meant as much to Jamie as Olivia did to Jack. If she'd been taken away like Olivia, the Sergeant would have gone to the ends of the cosmos to get her back.

She still didn't seem very happy, so Jack went on. "Hey, you wanna get dressed and come with me to station at the edge of town? You can tell me about everything I missed when I was gone."

Immediately, she brightened, nodding enthusiastically. "Okay!" After dashing out of the kitchen, her bedroom door slammed shut only a moment later. Ms. Bennett snapped that she shouldn't slam doors, but there wasn't a reply.

Sighing, she looked back at Jack, pursing her lips when her eyes landed on the bandage on his chest. "Let me take a look at that. You can borrow Jamie's clothes for the day. He won't mind."

Although he wanted to refuse, Jack knew any arguments he could come up with would be shot down, so the best way would be to agree with her wishes. He sat in a kitchen chair as she carefully peeled the bandage back. Standing next to Ms. Bennett as she studied the wound, Sandy grimaced and glared, one hand balling into a fist as he punched the other.

Jack snorted and waved him off. "It doesn't matter anymore, Sandy. That one just caught me off guard. They're gone now."

Ms. Bennett flickered her eyes up towards his before focusing back on the wound. "Shadows?" she whispered. When he nodded his reply, she bit her lip in worry. Again, she glanced up at him, holding her gaze longer than the time before. She lightly grabbed his chin to hold his head in place as she leaned in uncomfortably close and stared into his baby blues. "Are you experiencing the delusions involved?"

He shuddered, moving her hand away from him. With her standing so close, he was beginning to feel claustrophobic, and that was the last thing he wanted to experience right then. "I already went through it. I still get nightmares, but they're not when I'm awake and haven't caused anymore sleep-walking."

"Anymore?"

"I don't want to talk about it." He let out a shaky breath, feeling confined and too deeply analyzed. He'd already told her he didn't feel up to talking about it, but he still somehow felt like she was subtly trying to bring it out of him anyway.

Noting his discomfort, Ms. Bennett gave him an apologetic look before replacing the bandage over the gash. "It'll take a while to heal, but it looks a little better than it did last night. No signs of infection. Before you sleep tonight, I'll replace the bandages with new ones."

"Thanks," he shrugged, getting to his feet. "Tell Sophie I'll be right out."

When he returned, Sophie clamped onto his arm and they left. Sandy decided to stay behind, uninterested in boring business. Sophie was too heavy for Jack to let her swing off his arm like she and Olivia used to do when they were younger, but he did pick her up and swing her around when she wouldn't leave him alone about it. It was obvious that Sandy hadn't been the only one to drink chocolate milk for breakfast. She was hyper, running yards ahead of him and running back to drag him along when he went to slow. He felt bad for not being able to keep up with her energy, but he wasn't in the mood for it. His legs dragged in molasses, his smiles were stiff, and even his tone was quick to snap, which he always felt guilty about whenever she'd give him a hurt look.

After they were about halfway to the control station, where military Officials maintained contact with the individual branches in case of emergencies and maintaining a flow of updated information, Sophie eventually calmed enough to walk by Jack's side, keeping with his pace instead of trying to get him to follow along with her's. She was sulking, eyes drawn to the ground, feet dragging in the dirt.

Before he could ask what was wrong, she let out a long, over-exaggerated sigh. "You're not fun anymore."

It hurt to hear. He felt a pang of heartache at the notion. When he was younger, before the Golden Army was even a thought in his mind, he used to be the talk of the town. He and Jamie were the unofficial guardians of all the younger kids in town, always leading them on little field trips to go swimming or exploring in the woods. Most of their parents even trusted him to take them camping some nights as long as they stayed close to town. He would gather them all up around a campfire and scare them with stories, and then make up for it by giving them s'mores and making them laugh.

But she was right. He _wasn't_  fun anymore. He wasn't the same person he'd been in that time. He didn't even think he was the same person he was when he'd last visited. A lot of things happened to him since then. Claws had dug their way inside of him, gouged out his insides, leaving only an empty vessel of what he was before. He was still Jack, but he wasn't the fun-loving, happy go-lucky Jack that Sophie used to love, the part of himself that used to make him _him_. The idea that he may never return to those days made him feel strange and heavy, as if he'd lost something he never even fully realized he'd had. Those days were gone, and so was the Jack that went with them.

"I'm sorry," he wavered.

She sighed again and curled herself around his arm, leaning into it as they walked. "Nothing's ever fun anymore. Mommy's no fun, Jamie's no fun, Jack's no fun. Nothing."

"Mommy's fun," he retorted.

"No, she's just bossy all the time. She was fun before Jamie went away; not anymore."

"She's just worried about you." He stopped, noticing they were close to the control station. "You know those big, bad things that came here a few years ago?" Sophie nodded. "They made her worry. She still wants to have fun. She got you your bunny, right?"

At the mention of Brownie, she lightened up, a smile spreading over her lips. "Yeah! He's brown, like chocolate, but chocolate is too much to say all the time. I like Brownie better."

With her attention easily diverted, Jack laughed and listened along to her ramblings about all the different rabbits she'd seen at the pet store, following with all the pets she would get in the future when she was old enough to buy them herself.

When they reached the front steps of the control station, he had her hold his hand so she wouldn't wander off. The building wasn't very big or impressive—two stories, made of faded bricks and spiraling pillars. The steps leading up to the front doors were long and walking up them was a pain, but neither of them were bothered by the trip. There were a few people going in and out, but nobody bothered to spare the two a passing glance, too involved with their own conversation or with the paperwork in their hands. Jack only needed to go into the building a few times before. It was necessary to use it to check in on a daily basis whenever he and Jamie or anyone else came to visit. The Officials liked to keep an eye on those visiting so nobody could run off in the middle of the night and never return when it was time to go back.

He'd gone there the first time when he first signed up for the Golden Army. Captain Dervish had an office in the front set up for emergency recruits after the shadows attacked. Those who signed on were sent on makeshift teams to help with clean up and search and rescue parties for those who hadn't been found, or those who'd gotten attacked and were either too injured to move or were wandering wildly through the woods with the poison infecting their systems. It was how Jack finally saw the outcome of his father with his own eyes, and just what the shadows could truly do.

Brushing those thoughts from mind, he lead Sophie up the steps to the second floor, finding the emergency communications desk in the back. There was only ever one person keeping watch on it at all times since it was rarely ever used. Despite that, the floor was still buzzing with activity and chatter, as mostly everyone else was using devices to keep in contact with the other military groups. The Golden Army was just one faction of many, formed specifically to put an end to the shadows. Pitch had been a General of a different, larger Army before he personally brought the former together. After hearing about what happened to his wife, Jack understood why he would go to such lengths.

As they approached the desk in the back, the man in charge of it looked to be asleep, slack in his chair with his head propped up in his hand, eyes closed, snoring softly. He was older, but not elderly, with gray hairs in his neatly tripped beard and wrinkles in the edges of his eyes. As they stepped inside, Jack noticed patches of cream splattered across his dark-colored skin, like bleach stains on clothing. Scooting Sophie into the room with him, Jack closed the door behind them so the rest of the noise could be blocked out. The office itself wasn't much to look at—just a small, rectangular room with minimal furnishings, the desk, a few chairs, a table with a coffeemaker, and the communicators lined up along the wall behind the man. On the desk was a silver nameplate that read, _"_ _Lt. Raz Diallo."_

Sophie looked up at Jack, practically bouncing with excitement as she expected him to do what he was known best to do: prank the man. Her smile slowly faded as he simply cleared his throat loudly enough to get Diallo's attention, who startled from his sleep and quickly adjusted to a proper upright position, trying to make it look like he hadn't just been dozing off. "I was just resting my- Oh," he deadpanned when he saw it wasn't his boss, but two kids. His accent was one Jack didn't recognize. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Not very," Jack replied, taking a seat in front of the desk and motioning for Sophie to do the same. She pouted, crossing her arms over her chest and refusing to look his way. Since she seemed perfectly fine only a moment before, he wanted to ask what was wrong, but he decided it wasn't top priority.

Diallo sighed loudly, slouching once again. He leaned over his desk, resting his head in his hand as he glanced down at the paperwork scattered about in front of him. As he brought his gaze up to Sophie, he opened up a drawer and pulled out a lollipop, leaning over the desk to hand it to her. She accepted it, continuing to sulk as she popped it in her mouth.

"Alright, state your business." His tone couldn't have sounded more disinterested, but Jack preferred it when he could've been some uptight professional military guy with too little time on his hands to waste.

"I'm Jackson Overland, Commander in the Golden Army. A while ago, I was separated from the airship _Nova_. This is the first time I've been able to reach a control station. I need to return as soon as possible, but I don't know the coordinates."

Diallo raised a thick eyebrow, snorting out an amused laugh as he sat back in his seat, giving Jack an obvious once-over. " _You're_  a Commander? Now I've seen it all." He shook his head, running his fingers through his mess of ebony curls. "Look, kid, you can see that I wasn't born yesterday, yeah? I can't help you if you can't give me the truth."

Feeling petulant at the accusation, Jack tried to remind himself that he'd only been given his title under special conditions. He sighed, placing his hands in his lap and making sure to keep his posture straight. He needed the man to take him seriously, or else he might not give him what he wanted. "The _Nova_  was attacked some time ago and I was taken from the ship by the enemy. I took care of the situation and came straight here so I could contact the General. I'm sure if you got him on the line, he could confirm my story."

"So let me get this straight," Diallo drawled, twirling a pencil between his fingers. "You don't have any identification, no badge, not even a uniform, and you expect me to ring up the emergency comm so you can speak to the _General_  of the Golden Army? And on what basis should I be going by, the honor system?"

Jack sighed through his teeth. " _Yes._ " When Diallo barked out a laugh, Jack felt his temper rise behind his eyes. "You don't have to believe me! If you just get your head out of your ass and contact him, you'll see that I'm telling the truth! This isn't a joke! I need to-"

"Stop." Diallo's carefree tone fell away in an instant, his lips pulling into a tight line, expression hard and jaw locked. "I am _Lieutenant_  Raz Diallo, and neither you, nor anyone else, have the permission speak to me in that way." He straightened, folding his hands over the desk in front of him as he pulled the chair in. In only a moment, he went from looking like a slacker, to embodying a professional soldier. "Now, Mr. Overland, if you truly consider this a reason to contact him, I will get in touch with the General of your vessel, and may God help that he confirm your story." Still, he made no move to reach for the communication device, instead clearing his throat and meeting Jack's eye. "That is, if you drop your attitude. All you have managed to do is make your words less viable."

"Sorry," Jack drew out, trying to make it sound more honest than he felt. He didn't think the man deserved an apology after treating him like a child, but none of it would matter if he couldn't speak to Pitch. "I'm sorry. Can I please speak to General Pitchiner? This classifies as reason enough to contact him."

The man continued to hold his chin high for a moment longer before giving Jack an appreciative nod. "Alright. I will contact him. It may take a moment. First, I need to find which Constellation sector he's in, and then it should go through to a Lieutenant, who will need to send someone to find him."

"Right," Jack sighed. "Thanks."

Diallo pulled out a book shoved to the side of his desk and flipped through it before finding whatever it was he was looking for, pulling out a slip of paper as he slowly got to his feet and shuffled to the communicator on the far left. Jack noticed he was wearing socks with sandals and wrinkled his nose, judging him hard on his fashion choices.

He watched Diallo pull up the Astral Map, which showed all the Constellations in their universe. They were currently located in the Orion Constellation, so Diallo would have to run an audio scan of each individual location until something played back to him matching the _Nova's_  frequency on the radar. Once found, the communicator could patch him through to the airship, where someone should be waiting by at all times in case of an emergency or if some important information needed to be passed on. Since the Golden Army was a special faction, communication in and out with most control stations came in less often.

It took longer than Jack was hoping for, and he could tell Sophie was starting to get restless, but finally the silence of the room was filled with Diallo's voice once again. "Control station _The Hunter_ , calling from star radius Mintaka, paging _Nova_."

A voice spoke through from the other end, a little fuzzy and far away, but clear enough to comprehend the monotonous tone. "Right ascension ten-point-sixty-seven, declination plus fifty-five-point-thirty-eight, quadrant NQ2, Constellation Ursa Major. This is the _Nova_ ; Lieutenant Silva."

"This is Lieutenant Raz Diallo. I have a soldier here claiming to be a Mis- excuse me, _Commander_  Jackson Overland. He has no form of identification to confirm, but insisted on speaking to the-"

The voice suddenly spoke louder, as if the person behind the speaker pulled it closer to him. "You have Commander Overland in your office?"

Diallo blinked dumbly. "Er, yes, I suppose so. At least, that is who he claims to be. May I speak to the-"

"I'll get General Pitchiner on the line right away, Lieutenant. Please stay on the line." There was a muffled sound as the Lieutenant on the other end pushed away from the speaker.

In the short time they spent waiting, Jack rose from his seat, trying his hardest to wipe the bitterly smug look off his face as he stood by Diallo's side next to the communicator. Diallo gawked at him for a moment before shaking his head. "Well I guess now I've seen it all." When a new, all-too-familiar voice came on the line, he stepped away and motioned towards it. "It's all yours, Commander."

Jack didn't have a chance to thank him as Pitch's voice rang through the communicator, hitting his ears like the sweet silk that it was. He wanted to close his eyes and press his forehead against the glass, but he was painfully aware that he wasn't alone. "Jack?"

He let out a shaky sigh, trying his best to gather himself so he could find the words. "It's me, General." There was a small, tired smile behind his tone, as he wanted nothing more than to speak to him in person, to have the chance to melt into his arms and sleep all his worries away until everything was well again. "I'm here."

"Overland! _Thank goodness_. Where have you been? I- You simply vanished from the ship." The sense of both heavy relief and deep concern could be heard clearly in Pitch's voice as he made no attempt to hide his true feelings, even though he had to know Jack wasn't alone. "You've been gone for two months. There were no signs of you leaving or being taken from the ship. What happened? Why are you in the Orion Constellation?"

Jack let out another deep, drawn-out sigh, silently cursing Cas's name. He supposed assuming the Petty Officer would report the incident had been expecting too much from him. "It's a long story, General." A shallow laugh fell from his lips. "I'll explain it all when I'm back on board. How long will you be at those coordinates?"

"As soon as we're done speaking, I'll have the ship halted until your arrival," Pitch replied. "From your distance, it should only take just over a day. When will you be leaving?"

"First thing in the morning."

"What is your condition?" Although it was obvious that Pitch was trying to maintain his authoritative presence, Jack could point out an underlying anxiety in his tone that struck him with guilt for ever having questioned his feelings.

"I've been better," Jack admitted, subconsciously bringing his hand up to the bandaged wound in his chest, concealed by Jamie's borrowed shirt. "But I'm alive. I'll be able to make the trip."

"Do you need anything before you're able to leave?"

"No, I have a suit and a caravel that'll take me there. A friend will give me enough food and water supplies to make it there."

There was a beat of silence before Pitch's voice rang through the communicator again, softer this time. "Be careful, Jack."

Although Jack knew he couldn't see it, he couldn't help the smile that came over him, small as it was. It was beautiful and terrifying how, even from such a distance away, Pitch could still make his heart flutter painfully against his chest just with the sound of his voice. "I will. I'll see you there, Pitch."

"Signing off."

There was a small click of static, followed by silence, and all at once Jack felt desperately lonely. He could feel Diallo staring, could practically hear the questions running through his head, but it was none of his business, so he wouldn't get the explanation he was silently asking for. In front of others, especially during official business such as that, it was considered deeply unprofessional to refer another soldier by anything other than their official title or their last name.

Pushing away from the wall, Jack gave Diallo a slight nod of appreciation before heading towards the door. "C'mon, Sophie, we're done." He held his hand out for her to take, and not another word was said as they left the building.

Sophie was silent until they were about halfway home, and when she finally stopped sulking enough to speak, her question caught Jack too off-guard to reply right away. "Was that your boyfriend?"

Instead, Jack ended up spluttering, heat chasing his cheeks as he rolled that word over in his mind a few times. _Boyfriend_. He'd never had one of those before. He'd never dated anyone before, really. What he and Jamie had when they were younger was nothing official—friends with benefits at the most. But with Pitch? He felt differently about him than he did towards Jamie. He wanted to be with him and, with consideration, he thought he just might be happy to do that in any way he possibly could.

But were they boyfriends? They'd never openly discussed it. Jack couldn't help but feel like he was intruding on the hole that Pitch's wife left behind, an invader trying to fill a space where he didn't belong. Pitch built a whole _life_  around her, with a home, and a job, and a beautiful daughter made in her image. How could Jack ever compare?

"I don't think so, Sophie," he sighed, running his fingers through his milky locks.

"Don't you like him?"

He eyed her, frowning slightly as she stared innocently back up at him. It seemed suspicious that she would be so curious, but she was only a little girl, after all, so maybe those suspicions were misplaced. "I...guess so. I mean, I do. I do like him." Of that much, he could be sure.

"Are you gonna ask him to be your boyfriend?"

He almost laughed at the prospect. He couldn't imagine a scenario that would ever be good enough to bring something like that up. It wasn't just embarrassing, but- but what if he said no? Jack couldn't blame him if he did, but he wasn't sure he wanted to build himself up for that kind of rejection. He needed Pitch. He needed his support, his warmth, his body by his side. If he ever did something to draw the man away after growing so used to his company, it would feel too cold, too lonely.

So no, he decided, he wasn't going to ask him to be his boyfriend. "Maybe," he replied, saying so just to keep Sophie from asking anything else about it.

When they got back home, Sandy met them at the door. He conjured up a few bunnies made of sand for Sophie to chase around the yard, motioning for Jack to follow him afterwards. Curious, Jack did as he was asked, allowing himself to be lead to the short brick fence at the end of the walkway. They sat on it in a position that would allow them to keep watch of Sophie while she played, the rabbits keeping close enough to the house that she wouldn't wander off, but far enough so that she wouldn't overhear them.

A variety of images appeared over Sandy's head and Jack squinted to follow them. He thought he was beginning to catch on to a few things, but to ever fully comprehend the star would probably take years of practice. It was like another language, one entirely composed of symbols and hand motions.

Raising his brow, Jack glanced down at the hand that pointed towards the covered gashes in his chest. "You're talking about this? Are you worried about the poison?" When Sandy nodded, he glanced away, trying to form his thoughts. If Ms. Bennett sent him out there in an attempt to get him to talk, it wasn't going to work. "Like I said earlier, it's passed. Mostly, anyway. I think between the extremes of experiencing the sleepwalking and the stuff that followed, it knocked the worst of it from my systems. I think I'll still have nightmares for a while, though, even without the nightmare sand."

An exclamation point appeared over Sandy's head as he reached for something within the robe-like uniform that he wore. It seemed to be an extension of himself, made of sand just like the rest of him. Pulling something out of it, he handed it out for Jack to take.

Cupping his hands around the object, handling it with care in case it was fragile, Jack brought it up to his face to get a better look. It was an hourglass hooked on a string of gold. Inside the glass poured the dimly glowing sand that Sandy was entirely made up of. "Is this for me?" When Sandy nodded, Jack flipped the hourglass over, watching the sand fall through it again. "What's this for?"

Golden Fearlings passed between them, followed by an image of a head with sand swirling inside of it. "Nightmares?" Jack guessed. Again, Sandy nodded, smiling kindly. He sprinkled a dusting of his sand between them as if to remind Jack that the nightmare sand had been fueled by his own. So if the Fearlings' sand could produce nightmares, Sandy's could give good dreams. When Jack finally understood what the purpose of the vial was, he smiled. "You want me to have good dreams. Thank you."

They fell silent for a few minutes more, simply watching Sophie chase the bunnies as they took her around the tress a few yards away. Whenever she would get distracted by something else, the rabbits would always swirl playfully around her head until they gained her attention again. Jack wondered if they might have a mind of their own since Sandy didn't seem to need to focus on them in order for them to keep playing.

Jack stared into the distance, a faraway look passing over his eyes as they glinted dully in the afternoon sun. "Do you think it was Olivia?"

Sandy glanced over at him, a question mark appearing overhead, but Jack didn't bother to look back to catch what he might say. When his hand came up to hover over the wound in his chest, Sandy's expression changed to one of clarity. He blinked his golden eyes, gazing up at Jack's face and understanding what the soldier was trying to say. Even if he replied, nothing he could try and convey would get through.

Jack wasn't there on the fence with him, but back in his mother's lair, staring down a Fearling with hollowed-out eyes that he was once told was his sister. He didn't have any proof that it was her, but at the time, it was all he could do to believe that it was because he needed it to be her with all his crumbling heart. If she couldn't still be some part of herself as a Fearling, it meant she was truly, honestly, irrevocably _gone_. And he'd been able to convince himself that maybe, just maybe, it could've been her, and that further yet, she could've been saved, that he could've had his little sister brought back to him some day, somehow. Then, all of that conviction fell away by the way his name rolled out of "her" for the last time, like a ghost of a recording.

Olivia never would've attacked him.

Swallowing thickly past the acid singeing his throat, Jack continued to stare on ahead of him. He blinked to get rid of the tears wetting his eyes, willing them away. "There's a condition about wishing back the dead, isn't there?"

Sandy understood Jack's final statement of acceptance; though all he could do in response was give a sad, slow shake of the head. They spent the next hour in silence, feeling comfort in the simplicity of each other's company.

\--

In the morning, Ms. Bennett already had a bag of supplies packed for Jack. He was going to take her old caravel that she never used anymore, along with Jamie's suit that he could wear in case anything happened. The caravel was different than his sloop. It was still considered a sailship, but it was enclosed, more like a small, personal airship that he could manually navigate. It would make traveling the long distance to the _Nova_  much easier.

He asked Sandy if he was going to join him, but the star declined. Even though they'd only known each other for a short time, Jack thought he would miss him. At the very least, he would have the vial of golden sand to hold as a reminder of their brief, but enjoyable, friendship.

Sophie was absolutely against his leaving. It was always hard for her when it came to him and Jamie leaving after their visit. Not even Sandy's sand-bunnies could make her stop crying, but when Jack kneeled down to give her a hug, it was enough to calm her down enough to let him go. Her arms lingered around his neck just a little too long, but he allowed it, knowing that it must be hard when she would never know the next time she would see him again.

"I'll send Jamie next time," he promised her. "You won't have to wait too long."

Ms. Bennett still wasn't happy about him going anywhere, but she made him a promise that she would allow it. When he first got up that morning, she cleaned and patched up his wounds one last time, giving him a lecture on watching out for himself and being more careful about his well-being, followed by one that she wanted him to pass on to Jamie.

"We'll miss you, Jack," she told him, standing outside of their home the next morning. "We always do. I love you and Jamie both." She brought his head down to press a soft kiss to his forehead, smiling when she pulled away. "You're sure there's nothing I can say to get you to stay another night?"

He shook his head. "I need to get back," he assured her. "I'll miss you, too. I'll tell Jamie how you're doing."

And so, with no further good-byes to be had, Jack entered the caravel and set off towards the _Nova_ , where he could finally be with Pitch once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, I think this is my longest chapter yet.
> 
> Sophie be like: Jack and Pitch sitting in a tree k-i-s-s-i-n-g B)
> 
> Thank you for your comments and kudos! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter~


	19. Chapter 19

“Some people are born with tornadoes in their lives,  
but constellations in their eyes.  
Other people are born with stars at their feet,  
but their souls are lost at sea.”

— _Perspectives, Nikita Gill_

\--

Jack could remember a time not too long ago when space was a wonder.

Space was this vast, incredible phenomenon of stars twinkling in and out of existence, of colors spiraling around in a profound combination of life and death, of lights blinking against the dark of everything else. Whenever he would ride amongst the great Sea of Stars, surrounded by unfathomable creations that should never, _could_  never be, and yet still were, Jack would get this overwhelming sense of peace and wonder, like he was right where he was supposed to be in life, like nothing else could ever matter. It made him feel small, but in a good way, like all the problems he had going on were nothing in comparison to how broad and infinite the universe was. The dark expanse of a never-ending sky would come over him like a security blanket and hold him close.

Out there, traveling the solar systems, Jack knew that no matter what happened, the universe would always be there. People could come and go, lives could flicker in and out of existence like flames in a storm, friendships could end, families could fall apart, but space was ever-present and everlasting.

And now, as a space ray glided lazily around the vessel he rode within, he could only look on with mild disinterest.

Apathy took hold of his insides like spilled over ink, staining his bright red insides a slick, slimy black, leaking out of every faucet of his physical being. Some part of him wanted to be angry that he didn’t feel his usual bout of tranquility, or even any semblance of excitement that he would finally be returning to the home he’d claimed in the form of sharpened hair, and angled cheeks, and a soothing tone of voice, but even those feelings were buried under the thickening muck. He was only a short while away from reaching the _Nova_  and he wasn’t even sure what he would do once he got there. Live his life day after day after day, just like he’d done before? As if nothing had happened? It didn’t seem _right_ , and yet nothing else came to mind.

What, reasonably, _could_  he do? Retire? And then what? He had no real home, no one waiting around for him with open arms and a warm cup of tea. Of course, Ms. Bennett would always welcome him back into her house, but as much as he loved her and appreciated her for all that she’d done for him over the years, it wasn’t the same. She wasn’t _his_. She was _Jamie’s_  mother. Sophie was _Jamie’s_  sister. He could pretend all he wanted that he was part of their family, but it would never feel as right as it did when he was with his own mother, with his own sister, with his own father, back in his own home. He would never again have those days.

So, what now? That was the question that continued to play on his mind like the broken record it was. He was on his own out in space without anything else to do but sleep, eat, and dwell on the thoughts in his head, which was never a task he very much enjoyed. Jack wasn’t the type who liked to sit back and think things over. If there was ever something bothering him, his solution was to bottle it up, throw it under lock and key, and let it fester until it dissolved away or came blowing up in the face of whoever finally managed to drag it out of him. More often than not, that person was Jamie, but Jamie wasn’t around, and Jack had nothing to do to distract his mind from all the things that haunted him.

He wanted to pretend it didn’t happen, that all the events that previously transpired, with his mother, with his sister, even with Sandy and Ms. Bennett, were all just a product of a long, detailed, hyper-realistic dream brought on by nightmare sand. He wanted to spend a night on the _Nova_  and wake up in the morning, tend to his duties, eat with Jamie and Grant and the others, and feel the friction between his and Pitch’s bodies whenever they were close to each other. He _wanted_  to be able to go back to doing things as he normally would, day after day, month after month, year after year, but he couldn’t imagine that he ever possibly could. How could someone go through all that he had and just continue living their life as if none of it happened? He could pretend it was a dream, but he would always know the truth underneath.

Everything he had was lost. Everything he’d been working for- _gone_. Completely and utterly wasted away. The goals he’d set up for himself had fallen one after the other like an unfinished trail of dominoes kicked over by clumsy feet. His sense of purpose had become fuzzy and unclear, his ambitions tossed to the wind. All the reasons he had for waking up in the morning were gone. What did he have left? What was there left for him to do?

So he slept.

When he awoke, the caravel was sitting just before the grand sight of the glistening _Nova_ , its usually luminescent shields down, probably due to the expectancy of his arrival. He parked the caravel in the flight deck, and when he stepped out on solid floors made of thin, metallic material, he could hardly believe he was really there.

And there stood Pitch, right before his very eyes, standing in all his glory with his arms open wide, warmly welcoming him back to the place he'd become so accustomed to over the years. It felt like a fantasy, a hazy dream that nipped at the edges of his memory just upon wakening, not quite forgotten, but slowly fading away. It left him feeling dizzy and dazed, each word sent towards him passing through a muffled filter that never quite reached its destination.

He'd played the scene through his head time and time again. He told himself when he returned, his first priority would be to throw himself in Pitch's arms, to sleep a hundred years, and follow up with a healthy dose of Jamie's lectures that he'd admittedly missed while eating the food he realized was never that bad after all. He kept telling himself all this time- He'd been _convinced_  that the feeling of elation would hit him once he got there, that it would build through the filthy mess of his insides and pour out of him like a river breaking through a dam.

But those feelings never came. His inked-up insides unsettled his stomach, sent his heart racing in his chest in the worst kind of way, his blood pulsing loudly behind his ears. The world twisted and spun, and he felt like a windup doll with its string pulled out too far. Everything was suddenly happening too soon, too fast, too _much_.

Before he could take so much as a single step towards all he'd dreamed of having, Jack fainted on the spot.

\--

Not a single dream disturbed his slumber, neither good or bad. When Jack woke, his eyes opened to familiar dim lights, squinting against them as he rose from his position on the bed of the infirmary. The room was small and smelled sharply of cleaning products, but was otherwise just the same as any of the other rooms on the airship. As he pushed his legs over the side of the thin, white mattress, Jack stared down at his feet, dully noting the absence of his shoes. He tapped his feet against the cold metal floor that he knew all too well. He touched one hand to the wall and the other to the stiff, unmade sheets on the bed, feeling both materials in between his fingers as if trying to comprehend that it was all real, a method he'd used many times over the course of his sentence in his mother's lair.

His heart raced in his chest and he wasn't sure why. Around his anxious heart, he felt normal. If anything, he felt dulled down, heavy, as if he was wearing a bodysuit of armor made of thick material. The movements of his limbs as he placed them both against the bed were slow and languid. Every gradual motion felt weighed down by gravity as time moved slower around him. He didn't feel ill or even like he was in pain, aside from the usual aches that he'd started to become accustomed to. Being conscious at all felt like an effort he didn't want to make.

When the doors flew open, Jack tilted his head up to see who it was. Pitch came through the way with someone hot on his heels, speaking quickly about something Jack didn't quite catch until he cut himself off, seeing that the soldier was awake.

"Commander Overland, how are you feeling?" Pitch's voice was as silky and soothing as Jack remembered it being. In that moment, it felt like pillows full of feathers soft enough to cure even the worst case of insomnia. "We ran a full scan on your condition, but nothing came up. I assume it was simply stress or lack of sleep that caused you to faint so suddenly."

Behind Pitch stood Jamie, who remained on his feet as the General took a seat by the bed. His hands were pulled tightly behind him, his back straight and his expression as open as a children's book, making it so painfully easy to read how badly he wanted to be in the seat at Jack's side. He was practically shaking with the effort put into holding himself back from clambering over to the bed and fussing over every detail on the boy that sat upon it. Jack wondered if it was the first time he'd seen him since he'd arrived or if he visited while he was out. There was no clock in the room to tell him how much time had passed.

As he glanced into Pitch's silvery eyes, Jack wondered why his heart hadn't yet leaped from his chest into his throat, why the quick pace it'd been running just a moment before died down into a sullen trod, why he couldn't feel the elation he knew should be pouring out of every orifice of his being. He should be jumping for joy, shaking with the desire to kiss the man he'd missed so much, laughing with the pure thought that he was able to see his best friend again, that he was alive, that everything was finally okay.

 _Was_  everything okay?

Jack flicked his gaze away before finding his voice to speak. "I'm not sure," he replied, tone even, unphased. He reached for the bottle of water on the table nearby, but Jamie grabbed it before he could get to it, uncapped it, and handed it over. As their fingers brushed in passing, Jamie's expression twisted to one of pain and concern. Jack wouldn't be surprised if he started to cry. "How am I supposed to feel?"

He wasn't really looking for an answer. Pitch and Jamie both seemed to understand that as they passed a look between each other. Jack wondered how Jamie got authorization to visit him. He must have put up quite the argument to convince the General to let him join. It brought up the question of how many others on board knew he'd arrived, knew he was still alive at all. He didn't think Pitch would've told very many others, but that wouldn't explain how Jamie found out.

"You've been through a lot," Pitch confirmed, brow creased in concern. He reached out and held Jack's hand in his own, to which Jack started and pulled it away from him as if he'd just touched an open flame. The pace of his heart rose up again as he held his hand defensively to his chest. The regret fell over him as he saw the startled looks in each of their eyes, followed by a sense of caring that Jack felt he didn't deserve, especially not after acting like that.

"Jack," Jamie swallowed, speaking for the first time since he'd arrived, "what happened to you?"

He felt trapped. There were two sets of eyes watching him, waiting for a reply that he couldn't find the words to. He didn't want to say what happened to him. He didn't even want to _know_  what happened. He wanted to tell them he'd simply gone to sleep and woken up there in the infirmary, just as confused as they were over his extended absence. He wanted to explain the fuzzy details of a strange dream he'd had in the darkness of his unconscious state, one that they would hardly mull over before laughing about it and leaving it at that, never to be spoken of again. He didn't need that look on their faces aimed at him, like he was a frightened child and they were there to coax him out of the hole he'd buried himself in. Though he felt it, he didn't want to be treated as something fragile.

"I can't- I don't-" His breath hitched in his throat as he shrank away from their prying, overly-concerned gazes. The worst part was knowing that he wasn't acting the way he was supposed to be acting. He wasn't feeling the way he was meant to feel. Shouldn't he be happy?

"You don't have to answer," Jamie quickly let out. He moved like he wanted to go over to the bedside to comfort him, but Pitch held out a hand to stop him from going any closer. Frowning and frustrated, Jamie gestured towards his friend. "He's panicking! I know the methods of making him feel better."

"Do any of those ways involve touch?" Pitch countered, reminding Jamie of the way Jack reacted to only his hand coming in contact with another person. "He needs space."

Jamie opened his mouth to argue, but snapped it shut when he decided that Pitch might be right. He didn't look happy about it, hands twisting together as he itched to go to his friend's side in his time of turmoil.

"Please go," Jack ground out, his teeth chattering in his skull. He retracted into himself, pulling his knees to his chest and hiding his head between them. Things were not going the way they should have been. He couldn't find it in himself to be happy like he knew he should be. There were only murky swamps inside of him, no rays of sun or shine. "Please."

"If you need anyone, just ring the bell," Pitch spoke, hesitation in his tone. It was obvious he didn't want to leave quite yet, not when he finally had Jack back at his side, but there was nothing else he could do for him like this.

Jack didn't look up, but he heard footsteps leaving the room, followed by the sound of the doors sliding closing a moment later.

Once he was alone, he took a moment to breathe in deeply, letting the breath roll out of him. With a loud groan, he scrubbed his messy head of hair and knocked it against the wall behind him, unfurling his limbs until they were sprawled out, limp, in front of him. From there, he simply stared at the ceiling above him, eyes drawn to a single spot of dirt on one of the lights. He wondered if it would be better if he was only a smudge on plastic and not a human being made of flesh and bone, and thoughts that wound him up and unraveled at the worst of times.

There were lots of things he didn't understand, but he was always alright being a little stupid, being a little naive, so long as it meant he understood _himself_. Letting his eyes slipped closed, he tried to count the things he knew to be true about who he was, things that went beyond of basics of just his name and age. Anyone could know those things without truly knowing who Jack was as a person.

He wondered- _Am I strong?_  He'd let his mother die by his hands only because he couldn't fight the demons in his own head. He allowed himself to be taken over by creatures that moved his limbs against his will. It was his own fault that his sister was taken away because he wasn't able to reach her in time. So no, no, he wasn't strong. That much he could be sure of.

_So what am I, exactly?_

He was the wings of a bird going against the wind, the fire lit by a desperate soul fighting off frostbite in the midst of a winter storm, the quiet sight of ice cracking under clumsy feet. His name was Jackson Overland, that much he knew, but from there, he was as lost as a whisper against the storm raging inside himself.

It was another hour before he got another visitor. This time, Pitch was alone when he entered the room. He was lacking his uniform, wearing the same casual garb everyone else wore when they weren't on high alert, which made Jack wonder if his mother ever made her move to attack the airship at all. If there was any light he could shed on the subject, it would be the knowledge that he was able to stop her before she was able to do anything detrimental. Although, it wouldn't make up for all the horrors she'd enacted in his absence, those of which would've never come to be if not for his allowance of her to slip between his fingers those years ago. As far as he was concerned, the sins of the mother should be passed onto the son.

Pitch sat quietly at his side once again, folding his hands calmly in his lap and watching Jack flick his eyes around the room as the soldier tried to find the words to fill the silence. There was a sort of barrier between them that Jack couldn't quite describe or define, a web weaved by his own hands to trap the intimacy before it could reach either side. Those moments of possibility would simply fall away and never come to be.

"I'm not ready to talk about it," he warned, working to solidify the web into a solid brick wall. He couldn't meet his gaze, wrapped one arm around the other, eyes cast finally to the floor where they remained.

"I understand," Pitch softly replied. Jack didn't need to look to know he had that mask on his face, brows knitted in sympathy, concern carved in the sharp edges of his face, with the desire to reach over the wall and inspire a new moment of comfort written in every fiber of his being. He knew the latter because he felt the same.

They sat briefly in the silence as Jack allowed himself to be soothed by it, unfolding his arms and lifting his gaze from the floor as he took another deep breath in, letting it out a moment later. He opened his mouth to ask why he felt the way he did, why he couldn't reach inside himself and pull out the jubilation he knew had to be in there somewhere, why he didn't jump at the chance to wrap his arms around Pitch's neck the first time their eyes met, why he wasn't kissing him breathless in that very moment. His mouth clamped shut when he realized that that line of thinking would get him nowhere. Pitch didn't have all the answers and he shouldn't expect him to.

"I'm glad to be back," he said instead. He wondered if he was trying to convince Pitch or himself that it was the truth.

When Pitch turned and met his eye, Jack felt his throat tighten with the sincerity behind his silver-lined gaze. "I'm glad to have you back." It hurt that there was no hesitation behind it, no underlying question. Those were Pitch's true feelings and it wasn't fair that Jack couldn't find the way to express the same.

When Jack didn't respond, Pitch continued. "You were with the shadows." The look on Jack's face must have reflected the recoil of a startled animal because Pitch quickly went on. "I'm not asking you to talk about what happen. I'm merely confirming what I know. Wherever you were, whatever it is that happened to you, I at least know that it wasn't of your own doing. I never honestly expected that it was in the first place, but it's always nice to rule certain things out." He held his hand out, palm up. "May I?" Jack slowly, carefully placed his own over top of it, nearly sighing in relief when Pitch didn't suddenly disappear or clamp newly grown claws into his flesh.

Pitch smiled, giving their hands only a light, brief squeeze. "It's a wonder how one can go so long without someone in their life, thinking it to be complete, until that certain someone comes along and leaves again, leading you to realize just how empty your life is without them." He sighed wistfully, carefully rubbing his thumb over the back of Jack's hand. "Of course I would be the one to find attachment in the most reckless person this side of the universe." He made an amusing face, wrinkling his nose and shooting Jack an artificial frown. "I'm sure being as young and vibrant as you are, you couldn't possibly understand what it's like. I'm getting old, Jackson. My nerves can only take so much. That's the second time I thought you'd died."

Rolling his eyes, Jack squeezed their hands, lacing their fingers together. "Are you blaming me for time now, too? First the bucket of garbage, then the ice over the ship, and now this."

Giving him an impish side-long glance, Pitch raised his brow. "As I recall, you were the direct cause of both those things. I've never seen my older crew get so riled up until you came along."

"Details," Jack snorted. "Are you trying to say you're too old for me? Maybe I have a thing for older guys." Without thinking a thing about it, he leaned in closer, past the web built between them, and grazed the General's chest with the tip of his finger. "I guess if it doesn't take much to stop your heart from ticking, we should be more careful."

"That's assuming you've ever provided a challenge in the first place."

When their eyes met, the heat passed between them hit Jack the same as walking out to meet a summer sun. It was a warm and soothing blanket that wrapped over his chilly skin, sinking into his bones to loosen the ice that had formed inside him over time. The winter beneath his skin was still present, but the clouds were parting after the passing of the storm and the sun, that he once was sure had gone for good, peeked down through them.

Their lips met for a kiss and his heart skipped the long-awaited beat, tripping over itself as it tried to compensate for the time lost between them. Jack's arms wrapped themselves around Pitch's neck as he found himself pulled into the older man's lap. Teeth scraped over his lips, begging entrance, and he allowed him to wander inside. Their hands quickly found the skin beneath their clothing, buttons coming undone and shirts falling away to the floor. Blood flowed through his frozen veins and Jack did all he could to keep it moving, to keep the warmth spreading inside him in any way he could.

Pitch touched all the places where he once felt numb, dancing fireworks along every inch of his flesh. As their lips parted long enough for the sake of catching their breath, Jack took the opportunity to speak. "I missed this," he gasped, biting his bottom lip when teeth sank into the sensitive flesh of his neck. His hips rose of their own accord, falling in rhythm with Pitch's own. There was still too much material between them. "I missed you." He buried his face in Pitch's hair, scraping his nails gently through the ebony locks. "I missed you so much-"

A whine broke the words spilling past his lips as the teeth sank hungrily into him. Jack's back arched against the hand trailing much too gently down the length of his spine. It whispered all the way up to the nape of his neck and all the way back down again, and he just wanted it— _needed_  it—to go further, just a little further _down_ , but it always slipped away again.

Pitch pulled him back by the hand curled in his hair so he could lean down and whisper sweet words against his flesh. "I was afraid." Jack could feel his lips pressing against his skin, dragging a lazy trail of warmth from his chest to his stomach and back up again, hardly missing a spot. "I thought I'd lost you a second time." He shivered when Pitch's lips grazed a nipple—a short warning before his tongue swirled around it, brought into the warm concaves of his mouth.

"Pitch- _god_ , please, just-"

The hand in his hair tightened, nails scraped dangerously against the soft flesh of his belly, just above the waist of his pants. "You filled my every waking thought," Pitch went on, his breath raising goosebumps on Jack's skin. "I wondered what I would do if you never came back to me." The hand in Jack's hair dropped to his back, trailing lines of fire down the length of his spine, falling under the waist of his pants to grab his ass.

" _Pitch_ , I-"

"I _need_  you."

Amidst the heat spilling between them, their gazes met a second time. Time slowed around their flush bodies as the desperate need Jack had for friction became a need for, simply, Pitch's touch, in whatever form it came in. And Pitch seemed to read his thoughts, as he rose his hand to cup Jack's cheek, his caress so gentle that the glass of Jack's bones would not break, the porcelain of his skin would not scratch. He touched him then like he would a precious object, not as if he was fragile, but as if he truly, deeply, honestly, cared for his existence and didn't want to risk doing a single thing that would cease him from being any longer.

They kissed again, slower this time, their lips melding together, their bodies pushed flush against the other, as if they were trying to become one in the only way they knew how. As Pitch dipped his callous hands underneath the waistband of Jack's pants, and as Jack did the same with Pitch's own, they moved their hands messily, without a care to move as quickly as possible as they'd been doing before. It didn't matter when they finished, it just mattered that they were together along the way.

They were molten gold, pooled together by the miracle of chance and swallowed by the heat that came over them. The words passed between them were hushed whines and whispers sweet as silver, scattered kisses scrawled across rosy cheeks and dusty brows, the absence having only made the heart grow fonder.

And for the first time in- _god_ , in too long, in _too, too_ , long, Jack _felt_  something, a spark ignited by Pitch's hands, setting flame to the all-encompassing darkness inside of him, lighting the way that felt so lost to him just before.

And when he came, he cried Pitch's name and didn't care who might have overheard. He wanted the universe to know that the walls it tried to put between them had crumbled to dust and that they, with all odds against them, had found each other once more. This was real. _This was real_.

To his own surprise, Jack laughed. It was short, sharp, and breathy against Pitch's slick skin, and it was as real as it ever could've been. He wrapped his arms tighter around him, as if he was afraid of being violently ripped away for another time, as if claws would come reaching from the shadows behind him and pull him back to a nightmare, as any dream without Pitch by his side was not one worth having.

"I needed that," he said finally, breathing out another laugh and enjoying the feel of it as it fluttered through his chest.

"That makes two of us," Pitch smiled, placing a soft kiss to Jack's temple. He pulled him in closer and ran his fingers through his milky hair, smoothing out the mess he'd made earlier. Jack let his eyes close and his body relax, content to stay there for as long as time would allow. "Is there any part of what you went through that I should be made immediately aware of?"

Sighing softly, Jack shook his head against the crook of Pitch's neck. "No. There's no danger." He couldn't promise that there would never be any again in the future, but he was sure that it wouldn't be any time soon, and it wouldn't be anything they weren't already prepared for. If anything, there was drastically less danger than there'd ever been before, both with the shadows weakening and with them losing the one who'd initially been leading them. They should have a less tactical advantage. "How many people know about my return?"

Pitch hummed lowly by his ear and the sound of it made Jack's toes curl. "Only a few. Captain Irra, Sergeant Bennett, and I are the most informed. However, the entire crew was made aware of your absence. When there are so few of us as it is, when a single soldier goes missing, especially one of your popularity, it doesn't take much for everyone to catch on." He paused for a moment, his tone holding a note of sympathy when he spoke again. "They will ask questions."

Jack flinched. He hadn't considered of that. "I'll think of something. It's not on a need-to-know basis. It's Jamie I'm worried about most. He'll be on my ass the second I leave the infirmary."

"Ah, yes, him," Pitch mused. "He was the very first to bring your absence to my attention. He's never been one I've paid much attention to in the past, but lately he's been making his presence known. I don't doubt that it's all your influence."

Jack could only imagine how Jamie handled it when he found out Jack wasn't on board the _Nova_  anymore. He was usually quiet and made sure to stay in his rightful place, but when he got fired up, he could move mountains and part the seas. It was that bright, underlying passion that assured their friendship for so many years. While Jamie was entirely content to remain as a follower of anyone he deemed worthy, he could just as easily raise an army under his feet if he had the right mind to. In the case of his loved ones, his spirits would rise to the surface and he would be an unstoppable force to be reckoned with. It didn't surprise Jack at all that he made sure he was aware of Jack's return the moment it happened.

Feeling himself drifting off, Jack talked quietly just to hear the sound of Pitch's voice. "Did I miss anything while I was gone?"

"Nothing of note," Pitch replied. He shifted, sighing deeply as his hand fell from Jack's hair. "I need to return to my duties. As much as I resent it, I can't stay."

In response, Jack's arms clamped around Pitch's neck. "And if I refuse?"

"There may be something in it for you later." Smirking, Pitch reached back and untangled the hands from around his neck. As Jack leaned away, he kissed him softly, too softly. "There's a change of clothes on the table. It's late, but you can still grab something from the galley before you return to your cabin. You haven't eaten since you arrived."

Before Pitch left, he paused at the door. "You'll be off duty for a while. We're in a lull, so feel free to get your rest and re-establish yourself."

They shared a regretfully final kiss before Jack was left alone again. It was short lived, however. As soon as he changed out of civilian attire, Jamie was waiting right outside the room for him. The moment their eyes met, Jack's first immediate thought was, _called it_ , followed quickly by, _fuck_.

"Overland, I-"

Jack swiftly brought his hand up to cut Jamie off. "Not talking about it." He sent him a bitter glare. "You were all about the first name basis earlier. What happened to that?"

Swallowing noticeably, Jamie fell in step at his side. He was quiet for a moment, which made Jack nervous. It meant he was thinking about something, choosing his words, probably. There was a good chance he was trying to find a way of getting Jack to spill the details in some vague, roundabout way. "Those are my clothes."

Jack looked down at the clothes in his hands and nodded, shoving them into Jamie's arms. "Emily said you wouldn't mind. Have them back. They're ugly anyway." He wrinkled his nose, hoping to talk his way out of changing the subject. It was still scraping the edges of discomfort, but if he spoke quickly enough, narrowed his mind to that singular point in time and nothing before it, he thought he might be able to get through it. "You've never had a sense of style."

Ignoring the shot at his tastes in clothing, Jamie glanced down at the clothes in his arms and avoided making a comment about it altogether. "So you were home," he went on. Jack sent him a narrowed look, silently warning him not to go down that road, but it went without acknowledgement. "How're they doing?"

Surprised at the stiffness behind Jamie's tone, Jack softened his gaze. "They're doing good, Jamie." He knocked their shoulders together, feeling the exhaustion beginning to weigh him down. "Sophie misses you. I promised you'd visit soon."

"And mom?"

"The usual lecture. I'll spare you the details."

Jamie laughed. "I think we've both got it memorized."

The halls were thankfully empty as they maneuvered through them. Jack wasn't hungry, so he continued down to the level with his cabin. The rooms for the Commanders were up on the third floor, shared with Lieutenants and the Captain, but he never got the chance to have a new one assigned to him before he was taken away. It wasn't a top priority, though. It was easier being on the tenth level anyway since his assigned duties were on the ninth.

"It's nearly curfew," Jamie mentioned when they arrived outside Jack's cabin, noticing the look of confusion on the Commander's face when they hadn't run into anyone on the way down. He hesitated and Jack steeled himself for whatever might be coming. "Are you...gonna be okay?"

 _I don't know_. "I'll be fine, Jamie." He drew a smile on his lips as he opened his arms out wide, curling his fingers. "Come on. I know you've been dying for it."

With no hesitation, the clothes fell to the floor and Jamie's arms wrapped tightly around him, almost too tightly. "That's twice," he whispered, voice quivering.

Jack's heart sank to his stomach as he heard it. He knew it was hard losing a loved one. Jamie had both his mother and his sister, but it didn't make Jack any less important. For as much time as they'd spent together over the years, they were practically brothers, closer to each other than anyone else. It pained him to know how much he'd hurt Jamie over just a short time, how hard it must have been for him and Pitch both to think Jack had left their lives for the second time. The very idea of losing either of them was enough for Jack to tighten the hug, memorizing the way he felt with Jamie's arms around him, the low tone of his voice, how his laugh could brighten his darkest day. Those were the things he couldn't stand to lose.

"I know," Jack uttered. "I'm sorry."

Jamie gave him one last tight squeeze before letting him go, smiling past his watery eyes. "Make me a promise?"

Raising a brow, Jack frowned. "Yeah?"

"Be careful."

Jack smiled stiffly, knowing that it wasn't a promise he could honestly keep, but Jamie was aware. He just needed to hear it. "I'll try."

The light of relief that crossed Jamie's face made Jack's heart throb painfully in his chest, but there was nothing either of them could do to make that promise stay true. They were soldiers fighting a war. They knew the consequences when they signed up. Death was hardly the worst thing that could happen.

Punching Jack lightly in the arm, Jamie gave out a tired laugh. "Goodnight, Jack."

Jack gave one of his own. "Goodnight, Jamie."

\--

The next morning, Jack met Jamie for breakfast in the mess hall. All the other soldiers on board practically swarmed him on sight. The table they sat at was a hive of activity as people all tried pulling up a chair and asking what happened, where he went, how he returned, why he looked the way he did. Jamie tried shooing them all away the best he could, but there were some who still lingered too close by as if overhearing their conversation would reveal the purpose to his absence.

Something caught Jamie's attention as he turned his head to look towards someone hovering just outside the crowd, near the door leading out of the mess hall.

Swallowing his mouth full of food, Jack frowned. "What?" He glanced over to see what caught his eye, but only managed to catch the back end of blond hair. "See someone?"

Jamie shook his head and returned to his food. "No, it's not important."

Not at all to Jack's surprise, Grant made a bee-line for his table the second he had a tray stacked with food in his hands. He set it down, pulling up a chair despite Jamie's protests. He wasn't the last person Jack wanted to see, but he wasn't exactly in the top ten, not with how noisy he could be. He probably thought he could get more insight since they were friends, but if Jack wasn't up to telling Pitch or Jamie, he definitely wasn't up for spilling the details to Grant.

After taking a bite out of his stack of pancakes, Grant spoke up, eyes wide. "So, come on, you know I gotta know what went down. Where've you been, Overland? That's what everyone's been wanting to know."

Jack gave him a tired, halfhearted glare from across the table. "Really? I hadn't noticed," he deadpanned.

"Please?" Grant leaned forward, lowering his voice so anyone eavesdropping wouldn't be able to hear. "I won't tell the others."

Jamie shoved him back into his seat. "Private, if you don't give him space-"

"You really wanna know?" As Jack spoke, both Jamie and Grant turned their gazes towards him, both wearing an expression of curiosity. They shared a look with each other as Jamie drew his arms away from the Private, not outwardly acknowledging that he wanted to know, but it was obvious he did. Grant, however, gave an enthusiastic nod, as blatant as ever. "Alright," Jack went on, "I'll tell you. I went off-board on a secret mission assigned by the General himself. You know how I was meeting with him every so often in private? We were discussing a plan of action against the shadows. Things got a little shaky, I lost contact, but I eventually found my way back to my home planet in the Orion Constellation and now here I am."

Jamie's eyes narrowed. He knew it wasn't the truth, but Grant ate it up. "A secret mission given by the _General_? Oh shit, Overland. I knew you were working your way up the ladder, but I never knew you _got_  there."

"Got _where_  exactly?" Jamie snapped, misinterpreting the implication.

Jack rolled his eyes and waved them both off. "Just keep it on the down-low, alright? I don't need the whole _Nova_  asking me about classified information."

"Oh yeah, yeah. Your secret's save with me, Overland." Grant grinned and made a show of zipping his lips shut. He was going to tell everyone he could as soon as he left the table.

The three of them fell into a more normal line of conversation once Grant got the answers he'd been looking for. Jamie wasn't too happy about still not getting to know, but it was hard enough for Jack to make believe that those events never happened without everyone trying to remind him of it all every second of his day.

He was just about ready to leave, pushing his chair under the table and reaching for his tray, when an unfortunately familiar voice rang loud over the masses of conversation.

" _Overland!_ "

Jack spun towards the voice, hair on the back of his neck standing on end, hands clenching into fists as every nerve in his body prepared to fight, to defend. The mess hall fell quiet with only whispers carrying through the air as everyone's attention diverted towards the oncoming confrontation.

 _Cas_.

The look in his eyes was a wild one. He moved quickly towards Jack, a purpose in his step as the crowd parted to let him through. Everyone would rather see a fight than let their day continue going on the same boring path as every other.

Jamie rose from his seat, but Jack held out his arm to keep him back. He met Jamie's objecting gaze with a more reassuring one, silently telling him to stay out it. Whatever Cas was there for, it was between them. He was tired of dealing with his shit, tired of getting hit without hitting back. It was time he got the dues he deserved.

Cas didn't stop until he had the fabric of Jack's shirt balled up in his fist, blazing green eyes boiling Jack's icy blues down to unsettled waters. "You shouldn't be here," he snarled, the slightest quiver beneath his rage. "You should be dead. I _saw_  them take you. I saw them take you away!"

Jack's hands wrapped around the fist, regretting that he was weaker than he'd ever been before when facing Cas. "You left me to die."

"What?" Behind them came Jamie's voice. The mess hall was silent, even the whispers stilled. The conversation was a loud one, both boys acting with unwavering aggression.

Realizing the attention he had on him, a flash of hesitation came over Cas's once steady expression. He glanced around, noting the audience they'd accumulated, suddenly all too aware that everything they said would be heard loud and clear by those in the vicinity, and that they just heard him being accused of leaving a fellow soldier to die.

As he wavered, his grip loosened on Jack's shirt and Jack took advantage of it by tearing away from him, putting a short distance between them. His hand went for the sword in its sheath at his waist, not drawing it, but prepared to if ever necessary.

"I see what this is," Cas spat, squaring his stance. "You're rallying the troops against me again. Don't you think this tactic's been overused, Overland?"

Jack's brows knit together in confusion. "What are you-"

"But what _they_  don't realize is that I'm on the winning side this time around. You can't get me this time, Overland. Oh, you sure as hell can not. Not again."

Cas pointed an accusing finger at Jack, centering the attention on him as he rose his voice, making sure that his words would ring out loud and clear for all to hear. "Commander Jackson Overland is a _traitor_." Silence followed. Cas moved to fill it, spreading his arms out wide. "Oh, _yes_. The great, grand, all high and mighty _Commander_  Overland that we've all come to praise and love turns out to be a traitor. What a mighty twist of the sword this all is, isn't it? This man you call our savior is the very same who lead the shadows here in the first place." Gasps broke out in the crowd and a grin curled dangerously over his lips. "That's right! _He_  lead the shadows here, _he_  lead them in an attack on our vessel, _he_  feigned their defeat to gain the favor of us all, and for blindly following suit to his plans, _he_  will be the downfall of the Golden Army!"

Jack's eyes widened when he realized the spotlight had landed on him in that moment. He could feel the thick veil of tension that fell over the room in such a short time, could feel the breath of those questioning his nature breathing deeply down his neck. His hand shook by his sword, words lost not only by the sheer shock of Cas's accusation, but by the belief of those around him. It was crazy. It was _insane_. But they were buying it.

"What's wrong, Overland? Got nothing to say to defend your honor? You've always been so sharp-tongued." Cas took a step towards him, all too pleased when Jack took a step back. "Get a good look, people. This is what a true coward looks like: silent with his back against the wall."

Jack was on the borderline of panicking when Jamie suddenly stepped up to his side, placing his hand on his shoulder in a silent show of comfort. His gaze was sharp and narrowed. "What's your proof of these accusations? As far as any of us have seen, the only one who's gone against his code of honor time and time again is _you_." He took another step forward, matching Cas's gaze with a silent refusal to back down. If Jack couldn't speak for himself, then he would gladly speak for him. "If I recall, _you're_  the one who left a fellow soldier for dead when he needed your help against the shadows. _You're_  the one starting the fights. And I'm sure there are a few who can vouch for the illegal blanket party _you_  held against Overland a few months ago. The fact that you call yourself a soldier at all is a disgrace."

"He-" Cas swallowed, shrank back, but only for a moment. His spirits rose again. This was not an opportunity he could waste. "I _saw_  him get taken away by the shadows when he went missing two months ago. I was there when it happened. They came specifically for him and none other! How do you explain-"

"Cas!"

Their heads turned towards the crowd as Millie stepped out of it, storming her way between them. She held her head high, her lips thinned as she stood before their audience. Her eyes narrowed on Cas, who glowered back at her.

"We could do without your interruptions, Millie," Cas snapped. "Move out of the way."

She squared her jaw. "No."

His eyes narrowed. "What exactly do you think you're doing?"

"Shut up!" At her tone, Cas flinched. He looked around, suddenly unsure of the situation. "Luke, I've been standing at your side for far too long. I'm as much to blame for your mistakes as you are for enabling them to happen. This is where I draw the line. It's gotten out of hand. You need to stop this."

He shook his head, eyes wide with incredulity. "Bu- but you're my-"

" _As_  your sister, it's my duty to love you, not to let you damage an innocent's reputation just for the sake of your own." Her voice softened, holding her hand out towards him. "Give it up, Cas. I can't stand to see you this way anymore. We'll go home. This mess you've gotten yourself in will clear up. Things will be better there."

For a moment, he lingered in hesitation, glancing from her eyes to her hand. His hand reached towards her own and it looked like he would stand down, but before their fingers could meet, he drew his hand away. The fire grew in his eyes again. "I can't let this traitor get away with the crimes he's committed. All I've done, I've done with purpose! If anyone's deserving, it's _him_!" He pointed once again, past Millie, past Jamie, aimed directly on Jack. "That man is a-"

" _Enough!_ "

The General's command shook the walls. Jack could practically feel the tremors under his feet as Pitch parted the crowd, storming up to the four at the center of the room. His silver eyes were aflame with fury, his teeth curled into a snarl, expression twisted into one of rage, no longer carefully concealed by his mask of professionalism. Just seeing him brought a shock-wave of fear to Jack's core. He'd never seen him so angry before.

Pitch turned on Cas, who shrank back once again, averting his gaze. "You dare to _brag_  about witnessing a fellow soldier fall prey to the shadows and doing nothing about it? You stood by and _watched_  as he got taken away?" His form rose high above Cas's own, a tower of all-encompassing danger. His shadow cast a shroud over the other man, swallowing him whole. In that moment, Jack wouldn't have been surprised if Pitch struck out against the Petty Officer. He looked like he had the right mind to. It was a terrifying sight to see.

When Pitch spoke again, his tone was eerily calm, though his venomous gaze never left Cas's own. "Are these accusations posed against you the truth? Did you throw an illicit blanket party on a fellow soldier? Did you fail to fight by his side in the line of combat, not only once, but _twice_?"

"I-"

" _Give me the truth_."

Cas's body shook with tremors of fear that wracked his body, clear to all who could see. "I- Y- yes. Yes, it's true, but I- I was acting on good will! Overland is a traitor and I was the only one who could see that! You need to underst-"

" _Silence_." Cas's jaw snapped shut so quickly that Jack was almost sure he chipped a tooth. "I've heard enough." Pitch ripped the badge from Cas's shirt, holding out his other hand a moment after. "Your sword."

Cas blinked owlishly at him, face pale, knees shaking. "Wh- But I-"

" _Your sword_."

Shaken, Cas undid the belt that held the sheath to his sword from around his waist and unwillingly handed it over. He hung his head low like a punished dog to avoid the heated gazes of everyone around boring holes into his head. The humility could not be weighed. Jack thought it was the only way out that Cas ever deserved.

"Luke Cas," Pitch proclaimed, "from here on out, you are no longer deserving of the title 'Petty Officer,' and are hereby officially dishonorably discharged of your position in the Golden Army."

Cas rose his head to meet Pitch's eyes, mouth open in shock. "No, no! You can't do that!" As Pitch turned away, finished with what he had to say, Cas stumbled after him. "I was only doing what was best! I was only doing good! I'm the martyr here, not him!"

The second his hand touched the material of Pitch's shirt, the General turned, sending a look that struck terror through him. His hand dropped away as if burned. "You will be put under quarantine until your removal from this vessel to see that you are no longer a danger to those around you."

Pitch turned towards the room, gaze briefly passing over Jack, still standing a step behind Jamie. In that moment, his expression darkened, and Jack was more stunned by that brief, silent passing than in any of the events prior. As he looked away, Pitch addressed the crowd. "Everyone, return to your duties. This will not be made anymore of a scene than it has already been. If I see anymore outbursts like this, all parties involved will be immediately dropped in rank. Dismissed."

As Pitch turned to leave, he nodded to someone just out of sight. From the edge of the crowd, Captain Irra appeared, grabbing tightly onto Cas's arm and pulling him along as if he weighed nothing.

Cas's screams of protests could be heard long after he was removed from the room, a wild repeat of _"traitor!"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's trash days, ladies and gentleman. Don't forget to kick your can to the curb.
> 
> Whew, a lot of stuff went down in this chapter. Shit has certainly hit the fan and splattered on all occupants in the vicinity of its shitstorm of terror. That's a really gross analogy, but you get the point.
> 
> I really enjoyed writing this chapter! Thank you all once again for your continued support!


	20. Chapter 20

“I like the stars. It’s the illusion of permanence, I think. I mean, they’re always flaring up and caving in and going out. But from here, I can pretend… I can pretend that things last. I can pretend that lives last longer than moments. Gods come, and gods go. Mortals flicker and flash and fade. Worlds don’t last; and stars and galaxies are transient, fleeting things that twinkle like fireflies and vanish into cold and dust. But I can pretend…”

— _Neil Gaiman, The Sandman, Vol. 7: Brief Lives_

\--

 _Traitor_.

It was on their minds. Jack could see it in the way his fellow crew looked at him. He’d saved their lives, given everything he'd had more times than not, and they still dropped their tones to a whisper when he came around. He carried the title of Commander in the badge on his shirt, yet it was still a question in everyone’s minds on whether or not it was right for him to have it. Of all the scenarios he thought he would have returned to, being silently shunned as a potential traitor was the last thing that ever would have crossed his mind.

There were a few who believed him. Jamie, of course, was among them, along with Millie, who Jack couldn’t help but feel a little bad for despite his own situation going on. She’d faced up against her own brother in front of a crowd of her peers to get him to back down, and instead of joining her side, he backed away from her hand. He’d met her eye and refused her help despite all she’d done for him over the years. Jack could only imagine how she must feel. The only blood sibling he had was his little sister and she never turned against him like that. Even though she was still young, he doubted she ever would have done so in her older years. Jamie was the closest to a brother his age that he had and they were closer than ever. If anything, Jack would be the first to let him down rather than the other way around.

Since he was off duty, Jack spent most of his time in his room. It made him feel restless to not be out there training or doing something productive with his time, but being surrounded by judgmental eyes boring holes in his head was almost worse than being left alone with his thoughts.

It was a pain knowing that even though Cas was finally, _finally_ , out of the way, the man still left him with nothing to celebrate. Of course Cas would be the one who leaves a stain long after he’s been taken away. At the very least, he would be under lock and key, so he wouldn’t be able to escape and torment Jack any further, but it hardly made anything better when everyone else on board was still hung up on his final words. There was no way Jack could explain the truth to them, no way to express his honesty. The only thing he could hope for was that all of it would blow over, that tensions would fade with time, and everyone would eventually forget about the whole incident.

Shortly after Jamie left, Jack fell back into his bed and pressed his hands against the backs of his eyes, where a headache was beginning to build up to dangerously inconvenient levels. He wasn’t the religious type, but if there was a God, Jack thought he had to be a cruel man with a magnifier glass setting fire to the lives of those who already had it bad enough. Returning to the _Nova_  was supposed to be his break from hardships, not another desolate wasteland of aching loneliness and a throbbing pain underneath the skin that he couldn't quite describe or get rid of. That God was having the best time setting his world to flames around him and Jack was powerless against it. He couldn’t fight the shadows without falling into darkness, couldn’t reach for the light without getting burned. In the end, he found himself walking the tightrope without a net to catch him when he eventually fell.

Reaching under his shirt, Jack was pleased to find the small hourglass of golden sand still hanging on the chain around his neck. He turned it in his fingers and held it close, sighing softly and letting himself drift off to a light sleep.

His slumber was rudely interrupted a while later, disturbing him from a dream he already forgot upon waking to the knock at the door. It was a loud and heavy knock, striking three firm times in a row to assure his attention. In no rush at all, Jack slowly pulled himself from the bed, fixed his wrinkled clothes, checked his hair, and rolled his eyes at another three knocks all before going to see who it was.

He was surprised to find Captain Irra standing there, looking as stiff and stoic as ever, her face as much of a mask as he remembered it being. The only times he’d ever seen her act casual was whenever they happened to be around Pitch at the same time. Still, he thought with his status as Commander, and his relationship with Pitch, whether she knew the details of it or not, that she would look upon him with a little more respect. She was still his superior, but he wasn’t the same reckless Private he’d been in the beginning. He deserved better.

She cut him off before he could ask what she wanted. “The General wants to see you.”

He frowned, not liking the grim tone of her voice. “Pitch? What does he-”

“It’s _General Pitchiner_ , Overland,” she stiffly asserted. “You should know by now to address your superior officers by their proper titles.”

Off-put, Jack nearly recoiled at her underlying hostility. He wanted to snap back at her, but knew it would only dig him a deeper hole than he was apparently already in. Although, how he got there, or who dug it in the first place, was beyond him. “Okay,” he tried again. “Then what does the _General_  want with me?”

“You’re in no position to be asking questions.” She ignored his gawking and simply turned away from him altogether, motioning for him to follow. She started down the corridor without so much as looking back to see if he was following along.

Jack shook his head and quickly grabbed his shoes, rushing to catch up to her quick pace. She was taller, her legs were longer, and she seemed to be in a hurry, so it wasn’t until she was at the stairs to reach the next level that he finally caught up. The look on her face gave way to none of his answers and he doubted she would give him any if he tried asking again, if her last unhelpful response was anything to go by. He suddenly felt very much like an outcast, being treated similar to a captive enemy. The only differences were that his wrists were clear of cuffs and he still had a sword against his side. Eyes from other soldiers followed him as he trailed a few steps behind Irra, both silent as they made their way up to the quarter deck.

By the time they reached the General’s office, Jack was a barely concealed bundle of nerves and bitterness. He wanted to demand why he was brought there out of the blue, why he hadn’t been told anything, why he was being treated with disrespect all of a sudden despite his title. Most of all, he was concerned that it had to do with Cas, that the poison he’d spouted about infected Irra and Pitch as it had the others.

As Pitch answered the door, his expression as stiff as Irra’s, Jack’s stomach sank. He’d fought tooth and nail to finally find solace in Pitch’s arms and now there was a sudden threat of it being ripped viciously away for reasons he couldn’t control. He was not going to let it go so easily.

Irra was excused and Jack was told to go inside once she left. The doors shut behind them, locked, and Pitch stood blatantly in the way of him and the way out as Jack continued to the couch. He stopped when he realized he wasn’t being followed and spun on his heel to face the General, narrowing his eyes and swallowing the nerves fighting their way up his throat. “What the hell is going on?” he demanded, taking a daring step towards the other man. “I don’t appreciate being treated like some sort of criminal.”

“Take a seat, Overland,” Pitch coolly replied. There was no warmth in his tone, no softness behind his sharpened silver gaze. He didn’t look like the Pitch that spent intimate moments with him so many times in the past, the one who kissed him so carefully, who claimed to need of his existence. Rather, he looked so much more like the General that he was, cold and concealed behind an unreadable mask that set Jack on edge in more ways than one.

Stubbornly, Jack refused. “I’ll take a seat when I’m told what’s going on.”

“You will do as I say, Overland. If you don’t take a seat and calm your temper, you’ll be forced to continue this interrogation in handcuffs. It’s only an act of good will that you aren’t in them now.”

The icy tone sent shivers down Jack’s spine. “Interrogation?” he echoed, hesitant. So it was about the incident with Cas. Pitch was questioning his honesty. There was doubt in his mind that Jack was not who he’d claimed to be all that time, which meant he thought every moment they had between them, every word passed from one to the other, every time Jack had ever breathed his name against his lips just might be based on false principals; a lie to get what he wanted.

Floored by the pain of heartache, Jack did end up taking a seat. He sat on the close end of the couch, staring off ahead of him at the monitors without really watching either one of them, wondering if any of what was happening was actually real or if he’d stumbled into another unfortunate nightmare. He reached for the dream sand around his neck to reassure himself that he wasn’t still dreaming. If he was, it wouldn’t be something like this. It wasn’t supposed to be, anyway.

“Remove your sword,” Pitch demanded next.

Jack bit his lip, but did as he was told without complaint. He undid the belt from around his waist and laid it out on the table in front of him. It wasn’t right that he was there. It wasn’t right that he was being questioned for false accusations against him. It wasn’t right that the one who should have trusted him the most was the one doing the interrogating. He wanted to be angry about it, wanted to throw a fit, but he was too tired for that. After all he'd gone through, all Jack could think in that moment was that, amongst everything else, it _might as well_  happen.

The silence stretched on too long for his liking. He could feel Pitch's eyes on him, trying to read his mind, figure him out, when there was nothing to hide in the first place. Still, Jack squirmed, growing increasingly uncomfortable with the more time that passed.

Finally, he snapped. "You think I'm a traitor."

Pitch raised a fine brow, tilting his chin up and folding his hands behind his back. He was silent for a moment before giving the slightest shake of the head. "I can't state for sure one way or another. My job is to find out the truth," he coldly replied. "As the General of this vessel, it's my duty to ensure the safety of those on board. If there's a possibility of a traitor in our midst, I need to snuff them out."

Jack couldn't help but snort at that. "' _Snuff them out.'_  You're talking about me- you know that right?" He rose his head to glare at the older man, eyes burning like boiled water. "Why are you pretending that you don't know me? I'm not some stranger you picked up out of the blue. I've been here nearly three years. You and I have-"

"My personal feelings are irrelevant in this matter, Overland. As far as I'm concerned, you have been accused of a dire crime." Finally, he moved from his spot by the door and ghosted over to the soldier, stopping when he stood before him, separated by the table between them. "Our history together is irrelevant."

A terrible weight sank to the pit of Jack's stomach at the words. He felt his nerves jump, his heart flickering painfully against the voice that he'd grown to love in no time at all, the very same that spoke such harsh words to him then. "How could you even say that?" He spoke quietly at first, so much so that Pitch needed to lean in to catch what he was saying. But as he tried again, he was so loud that the General flinched away in surprise. "Did everything that's happened between us mean _nothing_  to you?!"

Pitch, in all his stiff, put-together ways, wavered for just a moment, hesitating for the first time since Jack had arrived. "You aren't comprehending-"

"I think I understand perfectly well, _Pitchiner_." Jack rose to his feet, the fire in his belly surging out through his throat, lighting his eyes. His words were sparks and Pitch was the wood he meant to set aflame. It was the only thing he could do anymore to warm his chilly heart. "You're trying to make yourself feel better by telling me it's the many over the few, by taking yourself out of the equation, but you're only making it worse! You can't pretend not to know who I am, not after all we've been through. You're lying to yourself!" He reached over the table to jab a daring, accusing finger against Pitch's bony chest. "So tell me _honestly_ , General: do you think I'm a traitor?"

Their eyes met—Jack's a raging blizzard headed straight for town, Pitch's a diluted puddle of silver unsettled by the frost dancing over it. Neither backed down and both were silent.

Again, Pitch took too long to answer. Jack looked away, his fury beginning to die down against the winds of despair. "I knew-"

"I don't," Pitch softly sighed. Jack's head spun back to find Pitch's gaze once more, searching the pools of silver to find the answers he was looking for, but none came to surface. "However, there's a part of me that still needs to be sure. I trust you, Jack, but this is for the good of my men. You have to understand that."

It still hurt to hear, but the pain buzzed as a dull background noise, the static behind a television screen on a channel that came in _just_  clear enough to still bother watching. Pitch claimed to trust him, but there were no "if's, and's, or but's," in trust. For trust to be true, it had to be pure. It had to be all or nothing, and as far as Jack was concerned, he was starving and Pitch was holding out empty hands.

His legs could no longer carry the weight that settled itself upon his shoulders and so Jack went back to sitting on the couch, head in his hands, scrubbing his hair in a mild fit of frustration and barely concealed panic. "You want to know what happened, don't you?"

"I do," came Pitch's voice, falling flat on his ears. "Whatever it is that happened to you must have been hard, but-"

"-But it's the only way you can be sure, right?" Jack snapped. He rose his head only to scowl at the other man, glancing away a moment later. He could only look at his face for so long. The light it once brought only wrung out bouts of anxiety anymore. Just the day before, he thought Pitch would be the cure, and now he stood before him as just another piece of the plague that threatened to claim his spirits.

He closed his eyes, took in a deep breath, held it, let it out. "Do I have your promise that if I tell you this, you'll clear my name of being a traitor?"

He heard Pitch shift and already resented the words before he heard them. "It will depend on the details of your recollections."

Tiredly, Jack looked back up at him. He felt cold, but he didn't want the General's warmth by his side. "I need this," he wearily urged. "I need all of this to go away."

Pitch's expression seemed to soften just a margin, but Jack couldn't feel relief through it. "I'll do all I can."

As Jack sat against the back cushions of the couch and rubbed his tired eyes, he tried to convince himself that he was only recounting a bad dream, nothing more. He tried to detach himself from the events that happened by telling himself they never really occurred in the first place. He'd gone to sleep, had a terrible nightmare, and now Pitch was asking him to describe the details of what went on in his own head. If it was only a dream, then there should be no real-life consequences. He shouldn't feel guilty over a false reality, he shouldn't feel terribly, gut-wrenchingly empty inside over fictional events.

"We know the shadows haven't been acting in the norm for a while now. They attacked the _Shooter_  and left the Captain alive. They've been acting like an organized group of soldiers. And what do soldiers need?"

"A leader?" Pitch offered. He sounded closer by, but Jack didn't want to open his eyes to see where he'd moved to.

"Yeah," Jack nodded. "It's been confirmed that Fearlings can take children and turn them into their own kind, so it shoudn't be so far-fetched that they can also possess a vessel."

"A vessel?"

Again, Jack nodded, keeping his eyes firmly shut. He wanted to spill the details as quickly as he could to get it done and over with so he would have the right to storm out of there without being stopped or forced to return. "I think they learned from watching the Golden Army that having a singular voice controlling the masses, organizing their movements and directing their every move, is superior. There was someone- someone who sought them out, a human, someone like us, who stupidly stood up against them. They chose her as their vessel, as their General."

He bit his lip nearly hard enough to make it bleed, pausing for so long that he was sure Pitch would try to urge him to continue, but to Jack's relief, he remained patient instead.

Sighing, he repeated the mantra that it was a dream, just a dream, nothing more. "The reason why I- why I was taken, is because the shadows reported my actions against their attempted take over of the _Nova_  that time ago. They wanted to get rid of me, but- but their Master, Queen, General, _whatever_." He sighed again, a loud noise of frustration as he burrowed into himself, scrubbing his hair and leaning over his knees. His only source of comfort was the last person he wanted to be around in that moment. "It was my _mother_ , okay? It was my mom. It was the woman I told you about, the one who heard from her horrible son that he let her daughter get taken by the shadows. I told you she went out to find them and, and she did. She did and they took her, too."

From his side came Pitch's voice, laced with sympathy and surprise. "Oh, _Jack_. I-"

"I'm not done." He needed to get it out then and there. He didn't think he would be able to do it a second time. "In the beginning, she told me she had them take me to her to protect me from them. They wanted to kill me for stopping them, but she wanted to keep me at her side instead, mostly to keep me out of her way for her next attack. The place she took me to was like an impossible mansion filled with just dust and darkness with these winding halls and disorganized rooms. I don't know how it worked, but I promise if there was an exit, I would've found it. There was only one way out and one way in and she wasn't going to just let me have it."

His voice shook as a flash of the lie that he, for so long, convinced himself was truly his sister came to mind. "I guess, I guess I can't say that, though. If there was a way out, I don't think I would've taken it. She had my...," His lip quivered; he shook his head, "what I _thought_  was my sister. Olivia. I really thought it was her. She was a Fearling because she'd been taken, but she- it- sounded just like her. Sometimes it even acted like her. I really thought..."

 _I thought wrong_ , he spitefully reminded himself, swallowing the knot in his throat. He needed to get back on track. He'd wandered off the road and was beginning to veer into dangerous territory. All Pitch needed to hear were the basic facts, nothing more.

"A-anyway." He cleared his throat and took a few more breaths to calm himself, suddenly all too aware of how little he'd been breathing before. His hands shook, so he held them together in his lap, hoping to urge them still.

When he thought he was well enough to continue, he sighed and went on. "My mom's the one who told me everything. She told me about finding the shadows, about them taking her over. She wasn't herself anymore. They were in her head. She was going mad with their disease infecting her mind. I don't think it's anything anyone can ever imagine. Just, just seeing her like that, seeing my mom talk about the death of all life in the universe, knowing that she sent her shadows to attack me just for _fun_ -

"She used to tuck me in at night. She would tell me bedtime stories until I fell asleep and she wouldn't even read from books. She just said whatever came to mind and I loved them. She's the reason I am who I am—or who I used to be anyway.

"And then- then she was just _that_."

His heart raced anxiously in his chest as tremors wracked his body. He tried shutting his eyes against the memories, but doing so only made them more clear. His stomach twisted sharply, threatening to push the acid out of him, but he refused to let it pass. He swallowed it, flinching as it stung the whole way back down. Numbly, he registered a hand on his shoulder, the indent of the cushion beside him, a new warmth at his side.

He opened his eyes but didn't dare look at the one beside him. He was so close to falling apart that he knew one look was all it would take to shatter him to pieces, and he wasn't sure he could pick himself back up again if he did.

"Jack," Pitch spoke softly, too softly, "I think you've said enough. If you'd like to take a break-"

"No," Jack interjected, shaking his head so swiftly that his hair fell every which way. "No, I need to get through this _now_."

He took another few breaths, just on the line of hyperventilating. Again, he forced his eyes shut, clamped his hands together so hard that they began to cramp. The mild pain was a nice distraction, but not enough to keep his mind off the rest of what was to come.

"Not a lot happened. There was no way for me to tell how much time had passed. The days didn't change. Everything was always the same when I woke up as it was when I went to sleep."

The hand on his shoulder squeezed and he wanted to push Pitch's hand away from him, but he couldn't bring himself to disconnect his hands from each other. "I made her angry. I made her really, _really_  angry. Out of all the times she'd threatened to kill me, or come close to it, I was sure that she would carry through with it then. It was the same time that I got poisoned by-" he bit his lip, squared his jaw, carried on, "by a Fearling. I was out of my mind when she finally tracked me down, but instead of killing me she said we were going to play a game. _Tag_. She gave me a sword and put me to sleep and I-"

He dry-heaved and immediately, Pitch's hand was on his back, rubbing soothing circles through the thin material of his shirt. Again, Jack wanted to shove him away, but he couldn't find the strength. His cheeks were pale and there was a sharp taste of vomit on his tongue. He breathed as if he'd just come up for air after drowning, heavily and with short, quick gasps that he gulped in greedily. He felt suffocated, trapped in a reality where even the worst of his nightmares could not compare. There was no pretending that the events had not happened, that he hadn't truly lost his sister, that he hadn't caused the death of his own mother, that he made a mess out of everything.

"Jack! You need to calm down." Pitch's voice was a dying flame against the dangerous winds swirling within him. His words barely registered. As far as Jack was concerned, he was alone, stuck in a darkened room, enclosed by walls on either side, with hands reaching from the shadows to grab him, to pull him back from his fleeting bouts of sanity and into the void where he belonged.

He took his head in his hands, digging his nails into his skull. "What's wrong with me? Why do I feel this way?"

"You're having a panic attack," Pitch quietly explained. He grabbed Jack's chin in one hand, forcing him to turn and look at him. Jack kept his eyes shut, pushing out against him. He wanted to, _needed to_ , get away. "Jack, look at me. _Look_. Listen to what I'm saying."

Resentfully, Jack did as he was told, peeling his eyes open and meeting with Pitch's own. He felt over capacity, as if he wanted to cry, but couldn't. His eyes were dry; no tears spilled forth.

Pitch held both his cheeks in his hands, carefully, as if Jack was made of cracked glass and handling him wrong would shatter him completely. "It's going to be alright. It's over now. Those events have passed. All that's left for you now is the future." He pressed their foreheads together, dropping one hand to entwine his fingers with Jack's own. "You can't travel back to yesterday."

Slowly, Jack's breaths began to lengthen. His shoulders fell, his body relaxed, his nerves stopped jumping at every thought that screamed through his head, and when he allowed his eyes to shut again, the only image that came to mind was Pitch's face, as it was the last thing he saw.

He leaned into the hand on his cheek, sighing lightly, reminding himself that while all those other things were real, so was the moment happening then.

"You don't need to tell me the rest," Pitch assured him after a moment. "You've said enough." When he spoke, Jack could feel his breath against his lips. His heart fluttered in the way that warmed him, rather than in the way that bruised his ribs.

"She's gone," Jack spouted, words falling from him against his will. He needed them to be said. If he contained them any longer, he was afraid he might break apart at the seams. "My mom. She's- I-" His voice dropped to a trembling whisper. "I killed her."

Pitch curled their fingers tighter together. "She understood what she was doing when she caused you to black out. She knew you would become a sleepwalker and attack without reason. Your actions were not controlled by your own will, Jack. You can not be held accountable."

Suddenly, Jack pulled away from the other man, eyes growing wide as he grabbed both of Pitch's hands in his own. "She's _gone_." When the only response he got in return was a confused frown twisted with undertones of worry, he quickly continued, tone lighter than it was before as if he'd just realized something he forgot to mention, something vastly important. "She's gone. For good. That means the shadows no longer have a vessel. With nobody leading them, they'll go back to the way they were before, acting on impulse with no sense of tactical approaches or organized plans. They'll be easier to handle than they've ever been."

Another thought came to mind and he squeezed Pitch's hands almost excitedly, pleased to finally have some semblance of good news to pass on. "And, and they're weaker. They retreated when she passed away. They lost her, they- they lost their _sand_. You know that black sand they were made of that you've had people investigating? They don't have it anymore."

Perplexed, Pitch's expression lightened, a smile behind his eyes. "This is- If what you're saying is true, and I don't believe that it isn't, then this is phenomenal news, Jack. This could mean we'll finally have our advantage back over the shadows." His brows knit together curiously. "So you discovered where the source of the strange sand came from?"

"Sandy," Jack nodded, smiling somberly. "He's a shooting star. I know, I know, it sounds weird. I didn't want to believe it at first either, but if you could see the things he could do, you'd believe me. Look." Releasing one of Pitch's hands, Jack reached for the hourglass of dully glowing golden sand hanging around his neck. He held it up to show it off, tilting the hourglass slowly back and forth to watch the sand flow through to each side. "He was made of this sand. He gave this to me to help with the nightmares. It gives me good dreams. When the shadows captured my mother, he was with her, and they fused with his dream sand to make themselves stronger."

"Jack," Pitch breathed, the reflection of gold reflecting off his silver eyes, "this is an incredible discovery. All of this, everything you've told me, is just..." He trailed off, shaking his head and dropping Jack's hand as he sat back from him.

When Jack frowned at the sudden detachment, Pitch could only stare back at him silently, regret sewn in every strand of his features. Eventually, he sighed heavily, drawing his gaze away. "I'm sorry. I doubted you."

The sharp pang of bitter resentment returned in the pit of Jack's stomach. He tried swallowing it down, but it didn't change the fact that all the things Pitch had said still hurt deep down. "You did," he agreed, voice tight. "You thought I was a traitor."

Pitch looked back at him and opened his mouth as if he wanted to retort, but he cut himself short. "I wasn't sure what to think, but I didn't treat you fairly. It's true that it's my duty as the General of this Army to act with complete, un-biased professionalism for the good of my men, but to ignore what I know about you as a person put me in the wrong. And for that, I owe you my sincerest apologies."

It was hard to acknowledge the apology, no matter how honest it may have been. The person who Jack relied on to console him, to believe in him when nobody else would, had turned against him. Regardless of how brief that time was, it still happened, and it still hurt. It made him wonder how easy it would be for Pitch to turn on him again in the future. He often forgot that Pitch was still the General of the entire Golden Army, that he was a soldier under his command. Jack supposed he should have understood that the job comes before personal relationships, and that the fact that they were together in any way at all was a highly unrecommended miracle, but it still struck a sour chord within him.

He sighed, feeling heavy and tired from all the energy he'd drained with the recounting of his miserable tale. "I understand," he said finally, not at all happy about it, but accepting. "Clear my name and I'll forgive you."

Pitch smiled. "Done." He leaned over the cushion to press a kiss against Jack's lips, who returned it with the faintest of grins.

They moved to deepen it, but, to Pitch's surprise, Jack was the first to pull away. "I'm sorry," he hesitated. "I'm just, I don't think I can do anymore than this right now. I'm still not- I don't feel okay."

Adopting a softer expression, Pitch kissed the top of Jack's head, reconnecting their fingers between each other. "I understand. You've been through a lot, Jack. It will take time to heal."

With nothing better to say, Jack merely thanked him. They spent the rest of their brief time together talking quietly amongst each other, sharing gentle touches and the occasional kiss that lingered more often than not, until Jack began dozing off. So he wouldn't be out during curfew, Pitch sent him back off to his cabin, assuring him that the assumptions of traitor would be gone by morning.

\--

Pitch did not lie. Clueless as to how he managed to do it in such a short time, Jack was beyond pleased to find that nearly everyone treated him the same as ever before the next morning. Nobody averted their eyes when he passed, nobody lowered their conversation to whispers as he entered the room. There was still an underlying anxiety within him that worried that there were some who still assumed he was a traitor, especially when he came to notice that not everyone looked at him the same. He could feel the chill behind their eyes, the silent seed of doubt Cas had planted in their heads that would only grow with time if not stomped out.

Near lunch time, Captain Irra pulled him aside before he could reach the mess hall. At her bland, reserved expression, his nerves started up again. Worried that she might treat him the way she had the night before, Jack silently prepared himself to fight back against anything she had to say against him. He was in no mood for disrespect, not after all he'd gone through to earn it.

"Is anyone still giving you trouble?" Irra asked.

The question caught Jack off-guard. He blinked dumbly, his stature slumping when he realized what she was really asking him. "I- No." He quickly cleared his throat and shook his head. "No, nobody's giving me any trouble. Everyone's gone back to normal for the most part." He squinted at her illegible appearance. "Did you...have something to do with this?"

She shifted and, if Jack didn't know any better, it almost seemed a bit awkward. "Good," she replied, avoiding the question altogether. She glanced away, unable to meet his gaze no matter how he tried to get it back. "I owed you, in any case."

Jack was nearly floored with shock. A sly smile slid over his lips as he took in what she'd just said. "Is that an _apology_  I hear, Captain?"

When she looked back at him with heat in her eyes, he felt no sense of intimidation, no feeling of fear, only a tinge of amusement. He batted his lashes at her, practically bouncing with glee as her usually frigid facade started to break way to the fluster underneath. "Do not push your luck, Commander."

She left before he could say anything further, but Jack was satisfied with what he'd managed to get out of her. It wasn't an _exact_  apology, he knew, but from her, it was the best he could ever expect, and that was enough for him.

The rest of his day was spent in a sort of daze. He found it too hard to concentrate on anything he tried to do. His meals went back to tasting like flavorless socks that his stomach couldn't stand to finish. Whenever he tried to train, every weapon felt too heavy, his limbs were too clumsy, too slow, and he kept tripping over his own feet. When more people went to the training arena, he decided to leave, defaulting to ghosting through the halls, aimless.

With no duties to distract him, his mind fell back on dangerous things, and the only way he could deal with them was by shutting them down. It took all his energy to block those thoughts out, to contain them in the box he felt they belonged in, to keep them from bursting from their container and eating him alive from the inside out. The conversation he had with Pitch the night before hadn't made him feel any better about what happened. If anything, bringing those memories to the surface, saying them out loud, only made them more real. Talking about things meant acknowledging their existence.

Jamie met with him whenever he could, somehow finding him periodically through the day, but Jack always disappointed him with his despondency. He wasn't in the mood to talk about just- _things_. Every topic felt so trivial after the things he'd gone through. How could he be expected to just live his life as normal after causing his mother's death? His sister's too, even. They deserved their lives the same as, if not more than, he did, and yet they were both taken before their times. It wasn't fair that he was allowed to continue his life when they couldn't continue theirs. He felt wrong, like he should have been forced to suffer much more than he'd already had, like he hadn't been punished enough for the crimes he'd committed.

Of course, there was also the matter of purpose. All his time spent in the Golden Army had been for naught. He'd joined in the hopes of finding his sister, and possibly his mother along the way, and now that they were both gone forever, his goals had been cut from the line to sink to the bottom of the sea. It was hard to plan his tomorrow when he could barely see to the end of the day he was already in. Everything felt so artificial, so meaningless, and, honestly, he didn't know what to do with himself anymore.

He'd gone three days like that: eating his meals alone, avoiding Jamie and his multitude of pressing questions, wandering aimlessly through the halls, and sleeping more often than not, as if he might find his purpose in the darkness behind his eyelids. It wasn't until after dinner on the third day that Jack decided to seek out Pitch's company again, following the path to his office on the quarter deck. He knocked lightly, waiting patiently for an answer.

When Pitch answered, he seemed to immediately register the dreary aura surrounding Jack as he invited him inside and offered him a cup of tea. Not a fan of it, Jack politely declined, taking a seat on the chair at the far end of the table. He picked up one of the papers littered on its surface, but Pitch's handwriting was messy at best and hardly legible. He didn't know how the man read any of it. "Has anyone ever told you you write like a hyper toddler?" he mused.

Pitch frowned and snatched the papers back, feigning offense as he straightened them out and replaced them in a neat stack on the table. "All that matters is that I can comprehend what they say," he retorted.

"I guess if anyone tried to steal any documents, they wouldn't be able to figure out what they said." Jack grinned impishly, feeling the urge for the first time in days to fight the murk inside of him.

Huffing, Pitch took a seat on the couch and looked him over with concern. "You haven't been yourself lately." It was no question.

"Am I that easy to read?" Jack sighed, allowing himself to sink further into the impossibly comfortable chair. It didn't look like much, but it was wonders above the stiff, ratty couch beside it, and nothing in comparison to the stack of hay he called a bed. "I don't know why I feel like this. I don't-" He sighed a second time, cutting himself off before he could go on. "I didn't come here to talk about it."

Their eyes met and immediately, Pitch registered what he intended when he came. "As much as I would like to provide you the distraction you're looking for, I don't think it's entirely healthy for you to avoid your problems like this."

"Can we leave it?" Jack snapped, feeling antsy all of a sudden. He'd gone there to feel better, not to have the sticky feelings he'd been trying so hard to keep locked away pushed up to the unwelcome surface. "I just don't want to think about it anymore."

A brief silence passed between them before Pitch finally rose to his feet. At first, Jack thought he was going to go over and kiss him, to raise goosebumps on his skin, but he did no such thing. Instead, the General turned away. "Jack, come with me. I want to show you something."

Surprised, Jack got to his feet and followed as Pitch left the room. He wanted to ask questions about what it might be, but he doubted he would get any answers. They only walked a short way down the corridor before they came to the room with the conning tower, still sealed in a thick, strange plastic-y substance that meant to block out the cold in case of busted pipe.

He followed Pitch up the thin, winding staircase that lead to the tower itself. As Jack followed the familiar path, he couldn't help but feel a darting pang of turmoil over the loss of Captain Dervish those months ago, but there was no use in fretting over it anymore. His soul was among the stars. He had to believe that.

When they reached the top, there were three Warrant Officers inside checking their monitors. They were slumped over their chairs, looking more bored than anything else, only snapping to attention when they saw the General entering the room.

One spun in his chair, rising to meet Pitch halfway. "General Pitchiner, sir! Is there anything you need or are you simply observing?"

Pitch waved him off. "Neither." He scanned the room. "Are there any anomalies to report?"

The Officer shook his head. "No, sir. There hasn't been anything of note for quite a while, actually. The skies are clear."

The briefest of smiles passed Pitch's lips, but it faded just as soon as it came. "That's good to hear." Turning from the Officer, he addressed the room, gathering the attention of the other two sitting off to the sides. "Clear the room. You're dismissed from your duties for the next twenty minutes. Consider it a break. Return no later than ten after twenty-one."

The three all stared at him, confused and mildly bewildered, but neither had the nerves to question an order from their General. Instead, they gave him a gracious nod, followed by an echo of "Yes, sir!" before they all dispersed from the room. On their way out, they gave Jack a short nod in acknowledgement, neither lingering to see why he might be around. They recognized that it was none of their business.

Still confused, Jack raised an eyebrow, watching as Pitch went further into the room to find the control panel. "What are we doing here, again?"

"I wanted you to see something."

"See what?"

Pitch pressed a button on the panel and suddenly the whole room opened up. The metallic outer later that concealed the airship from any incoming asteroids retracted, leaving only a thick, translucent glass between them and the stars. It was like standing under an observatory, with the glass making the stars look nearly magnified, brighter than he could ever remember them being before.

"Stars?" Jack queried. "This is what you wanted me to see?"

Pitch had turned to see his reaction, only to frown by his lack of one, turning away again to rest his arms on a higher panel. "Yes, Jack, the stars." Jack could see the faintest look of wonder reflecting off the glass before him. It was strange to see it on Pitch, but captivating all the same. "They always look their best in this spot."

Jack stepped up beside him, staring out past his reflection where he could see a large planet in the distance. He couldn't recall a name, but the rings were large and fascinating, each made of a different material. He nearly had the desire to reach out and run his fingers through it, but they would only touch the glass. "Don't they look their best on the outside?" he dully replied.

"Yes, but it's dangerous." Jack supposed he shouldn't have expected any other answer. "Sometimes, I rather prefer observing the stars, and it's harder to do that when you're amongst them. That's what makes this room my favorite in the entire ship. You can see them all from here." He closed his eyes, a smile finding his lips. "It reminds me of my time on the Moon, lying out in the garden and gazing up at the stars. It makes me think of better times."

As Jack stood quietly beside him, he thought he might be able to understand. When he let his own eyes close, he could almost recall the feel of grass under his arms, the comforting sensation of frost nipping at his nose, with laughter in the distance. Whenever he was on his planet, lying on his back looking up towards the vast Sea of Stars, he felt like he was never truly alone. It gave him an incomprehensible feeling of comfort that always warmed him from the inside.

"'No matter how bad things might get, there will always be the stars,'" Jack softly quoted, opening his eyes to look back out at them. When he felt Pitch glance over, he huffed a quiet laugh. "It's something my dad always said. I used to laugh about it, but he was more right than I could ever give him credit for."

"Your father was a wise man," Pitch mused.

"Sometimes," Jack laughed.

They fell into a comfortable silence, the two of them standing alone amongst the stars with nothing to interrupt them. As Jack watched a white giant, a celestial whale that adopted the name from the stars, lumber between the rings of the planet in the distance, he accepted the calm that drifted over him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so... _okay_. Things weren't going to be that way forever. He knew the moment couldn't last forever and that he might wake up the next day feeling as heavy as he ever did, but it didn't stop him from enjoying the moment while it happened. It made him think that maybe it didn't matter so much that he didn't know what he would do with his future, so long as he still had his present. Just like the stars, the possibilities were endless.

Surprising himself, his eyes watered and tears fell from them, rolling off his cheeks and dropping from his chin onto the control panel. Catching his reflection in the glass, Pitch turned towards him with concern, carefully turning his head to get a better look at him. "Jack? What's wrong?"

But Jack didn't know how to answer. He didn't think he would be able to even if he did. The tears fell softly, silently, with no burn and no pain aside from the dull throbbing in his chest. Through the tears, he smiled and let Pitch wipe them from his eyes.

Wrapping his arms tightly around Pitch, Jack buried his face in his chest, finding comfort in the man he'd claimed as his home. His voice was but a whisper against the silence of the room. "Thank you."

While Pitch couldn't possibly know what for, he simply smiled down at him in return, holding him close with one hand and running his fingers through Jack's frosty white hair with the other.

They stayed like that until Jack's tears dried on their own, and when they were finally gone, he never felt lighter. Taking in a deep breath and letting it out, Jack turned away from Pitch's grip to gaze at the stars once again, smiling softly at the feelings warming beneath his skin. As he watched a star shoot across the sky an immeasurable distance away, Jack laid his head on Pitch's shoulder, and soon after Pitch laid his head on Jack's own. And in that moment, Jack thought, things would be okay. Maybe not that day, and maybe not the next, but eventually, so long as he could survive until then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Jack. The tragedy of military men: it always seems to be their duty above all else.
> 
> It's been forever since I've brought things back to specific panels in the comic, but here it is! You all know the one, I'm sure. I'm super happy that the last chapter got such a good response! Thank you all for your comments and kudos! No worries, there's still more to come!


	21. Chapter 21

“It’s never been a perfect world. It’s never going to be. It’s going to be hard and scary, and if you’re lucky, wonderful and awe-inspiring. But you have to push through the bad parts to get to the good.”

― _Carrie Ryan, The Dead-Tossed Waves_

\--

While life was not tainted with black as dark as the furthest reaches of space itself, it wasn’t full of light-hearted spirits and feathery dreams, either. The time Jack spent with Pitch made him feel a little more like himself again, but he knew it would be a long time before he ever returned to the person he used to be, if he ever did at all. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure he truly wanted to go back to being the person he was before all the tragedy struck. That person was the one who set fire to his life from the beginning. He had no desire to go back to that.

It was a very slight fear, he realized. He didn’t want to return to the reckless person he used to be, the person who made one too many mistakes until he rammed himself into a dark room full of brick walls, but he didn’t want to lose what made him, _him_ , either. It was hard for him to reach inside himself to figure out what that might be. All people were complex, of course, but he’d never had to think about himself so deeply before. Trying to get a handle on other people felt like an impossible task, but he never had to worry about knowing who he was. It was comforting to know that at the end of the day, no matter what happened, he would always have himself. Really, that was all anyone had, right? They were alone in the universe, deep down.

It didn’t feel that way anymore. It’d been so long since he’d seen colors amongst the many shades of gray that Jack was starting to forget what they ever looked like. Grant would sometimes talk to him about things, reminding him of all the pranks they used to pull, and some ideas he had that he wanted Jack’s help with, but Jack always told him those days were over. He wasn’t interested in doing those things. Last time he pulled something stupid like that, he made a dangerous enemy who nearly caused his death twice over, and almost got him marked as a traitor. There were consequences to every action and he was tired of making a mess of everything.

Of course Jamie enjoyed the new, tamer version of Jack. He didn’t have to nag him so often or lecture him about not getting into trouble, or explain all the things that could go wrong, because Jack already knew. He’d already gone over the details in his head. Thinking before acting was a strange, new thing to him, and he didn’t care for it. Obviously it lead to less reckless results, but everything was so bland when he was too busy spending his time concerning himself with all the terrible things that could happen, _probably would_  happen, instead of focusing on all the positive possibilities instead. Everything bad that could happen seemed so much worse than the good outcomes. Nothing ever seemed worth it.

Eventually, with nothing better to do with his time, Jack reverted back to his life of locking himself away in his room, blowing Jamie off whenever he asked to play cards in the saloon or practice in the training arena. He met with Pitch once or twice, but of course the General was busy with other things. Even in their down time, there were still plans to be made, situations to be considered. He didn’t have the time to concern himself with Jack’s emotional state, or lack thereof, and Jack didn’t want to be a continued hindrance for him anyway.

It was somewhere in the third week of his sulking that Jamie surprised him by showing up at his cabin out of the blue just before breakfast. The Sergeant had been busy enough with his own duties over the week that he’d started spending less and less time buzzing around Jack to make sure he was doing alright, probably assuming that whatever it was that was bothering his friend was something that would work itself out over time. He may have been right. Jack wouldn’t know. He was finding out that there were lots of things he didn't know.

Standing in the doorway of Jack’s cabin, Jamie was all smiles, pearly white teeth bright enough to blind the half-asleep Commander. His tone was so full of cheer that Jack nearly flinched away from it, feeling dark and bitter just by comparison. “’Morning, Overland,” Jamie spouted. “Do you know what today is?”

Jack leaned back into the room to check the calendar on the wall behind him. Raising an eyebrow, he frowned as he turned back towards Jamie. “Monday?” he deadpanned. “It’s definitely not the day you let Jack get his beauty sleep.”

Jamie faltered for a moment, his lips turning downwards. “You…really don’t know?” He sighed and glanced away, as if he needed to find where he’d suddenly misplaced all of that cheery disposition he had only a moment before. He didn’t quite find all of it, but when he looked back, he was smiling again, a crinkle by each of his autumn eyes. “Then it’s a secret.”

“A secret,” Jack blandly replied, not in the least bit interested. “Well, then, I guess I’ll just never know.” With a yawn, he pushed the panel to lock the door, nearly smirking at the last look he got of Jamie’s face before the doors closed on him.

He was about to turn away to go back to sleep when Jamie started knocking too loudly for his tastes, demanding he open the door up. “Overland! This is important! Come on, you’ve been in there for weeks! Are you even showering?”

At the notion, Jack quickly caught a whiff of himself and wrinkled his nose. He decided with a shrug that he didn’t smell that bad. He could probably go another day without one.

As Jamie continued to knock and holler through the door, Jack rolled his eyes and strolled back over to it, leaning against them. “I don’t know anyone by that name in here,” he drawled, casually inspecting his nails. “Have you tried the customer service desk? Maybe if you try again next week, you’ll have better luck with an ‘Overland.’”

Finally, the voice on the other side of the door paused. It was followed by a long, exaggerated, drawn-out sigh that brought an impish smile to Jack’s lips. “ _Jack_ ,” Jamie said eventually, exhaustion behind his words, “today is a very important day and I’d like it if you got cleaned up and spent it with me. You can stow away in your cabin any other time, just not today.”

His curiosity piqued, Jack pushed away from the door and opened it back up again. “It’s really that big of a deal to you?” When he got a nod in reply, it was Jack’s turn to sigh. “Alright, I’ll do it, but you have to promise to tell me why at least some time today.”

Jamie’s grin returned two-fold. “Deal.”

After Jack took a shower and got dressed in a new pair of clean clothes, he went straight towards the mess hall where he promised to meet Jamie. As he entered, his eyes landed on the brunet, who waved at him from near the center of the room to get his attention. He nodded to show he'd seen before getting in line to grab himself some food.

Boa was the one serving the food, which was almost surprising since she usually preferred working in the back room preparing the food. She didn't like putting her hair in a bun, so if she was in the back, nobody would be able to call her out on it.

As he passed, Jack greeted her with a small smile, a little relieved to be out of his room after sulking around for so long, but also hoping to return sooner than later, if Jamie ever let him. "What's on the menu today, sweet thing?" Her scowl just broadened his grin. He turned his gaze to the bins of food, but before he could even pick something, she motioned for him to hold out his plate. When he did, she dropped a stack of warm pancakes on it, much more than anyone else was permitted to have. "I-"

"It's special," she told him, a twinkle behind her usually dim eyes. "I even checked our stock of fruit to bring these out." Without Jack needing to ask, Boa dipped a spoon in a bin full of fresh blueberries sticky with fruity syrup and poured a generous amount over his stack of pancakes.

"How long have we had _these_?" he asked, practically bouncing on his heels where he stood. "Blueberries are my favorite." Before he moved along the line, he grinned back at her. "You sure know how to treat a guy right, Boa."

To his surprise, she only winked and sent him on his way without another word more. Shrugging it off, he got enough syrup to compensate for his meal, a glass of water, and took his seat at the table Jamie claimed for them. Most people sat in the same spot every day so nobody would ever get in a fight over who sat where. It came up every once in a while, mostly with Privates taking the seats established by Corporals, but the issues were usually solved pretty quickly. No Private wanted to get in a higher-ranking individual's way.

Jamie eyed the stack of pancakes on Jack's plate. "Blueberries, huh? Aren't those your favorite?"

With a nod, Jack went about opening each small container of syrup, drowning each pancake in as much of the sticky substance as he could. "Yeah, I guess Boa was feeling good today. Who knew she had any moods besides angry, bitter, and bossy?"

Rolling his eyes, Jamie hid his smile behind a bite of food. "So I heard through the grapevine that they're going to start letting people have some time off again. I've been hoping for it since we haven't had any problems with the shadows in a while." He frowned. "Besides, I mean, you know, the thing with you."

Jack waved it off and swallowed a mouthful of food. He hadn't been so excited about eating in a while and didn't want the threat of toxic conversation turning his tastebuds bitter. The blueberries gave the bland, sugarless pancakes the perfect flavor he'd missed too much. "I promised your mom and Sophie that you'd visit soon. They're looking forward to it."

"Yeah, me too," Jamie sighed. He held his glass of water in his hands, staring down as the liquid inside the container as if he could see through to another world, where their faces weren't so far away. Blinking himself out of his daze, he took a swig and went back to his food. "Are you coming with me? Just because you were just there doesn't mean you aren't welcome back so soon."

"I know." Jack avoided his gaze, not giving any further reply for a moment. He used the excuse of eating to keep from answering. He'd considered what he would do if he was given more time off, but he wasn't sure he would go back to visit the Bennett's, especially not since he'd just visited them. A short time ago, he would have jumped at any opportunity to see them, but considering the consequences of his last visit, he was afraid that seeing them again so soon would bring forth bad memories. He wasn't sure if he could deal with Ms. Bennett doting over him the entire time, especially not with Jamie at her side. He loved them, he really did, but sometimes he just needed his space to work things out in his own time.

After a moment, he swallowed, nervously hoping Jamie wouldn't make a huge deal out of his decision. "I don't think I'll go with you this time."

He waited a beat, tapping his finger anxiously against his leg under the table as he awaited a reply. To his surprise, Jamie never even looked hurt. Instead, the brunet simply smiled. "I understand. They'll miss you, but I'm sure they'll be fine until next time."

Blinking widely, Jack nearly choked on his next bite of food, falling fast towards death until he downed half his glass of water. Jamie watched him with mild concern, but Jack derailed it when he laughed lightly and waved him off. "I'm good, I'm fine. It went down the wrong pipe." He wheezed a moment, trying to remember how to breathe properly before trying to speak again. "You might have a little surprise waiting for you when you get there, though."

"A surprise?" Jamie rose a brow, curious. "What is it?" Before Jack could even answer, Jamie groaned. "You didn't hide eight-legged burrows in my room again, did you? Last time you did that, I kept finding them everywhere. I nearly had a heart attack every time I opened my dresser drawers. I had to get Mom to open them for me. A sixteen-year-old should not have to ask his mother to get his underwear out of the dresser for him, Overland."

Jack barked a laugh at the memory, regretting that he hadn't even considered doing anything to Jamie's room while he had the chance to. "No, it's nothing like that. Relax. It's better."

Jamie grimaced. "Anything's better than eight-legged burrows, Jack."

"I mean, it's _good_. You won't believe your eyes when you meet him."

"'Him'?" Jamie raised both brows, suddenly uncertain in a whole new way by what the surprise might be. "You were only home for a day, weren't you? You didn't...hook my mom up or-"

"No!" Again, Jack laughed, nearly spilling what was left of his water when his hand smacked the table. "God, Jamie, let me finish. Your mom's still the same hard-working, single lady she's always been."

"Not always," Jamie quietly reminded.

Frowning, Jack sank back in his seat. "You're right. I'm sorry."

Jamie had been without a father for so long that Jack often forgot he ever had one at all. The man left their lives long before the shadows attacked their homes. He was still together with Ms. Bennett when Jack met Jamie, but not for long. Before Sophia was born, he lost his job, and when Sophia came along and it came time for him to support both his children, plus his wife who was in no condition to work right away, he panicked and fled like the true coward he was. The bills piled too high for either of the Bennetts' to deal with and, when Mr. Bennett didn't return in time to deal with the finances that only kept getting worse and worse, she was forced to sell her house and lost most of her belongings. They lived with Jack's family for a short time before she was able to work again and become stable enough to buy a new home.

Ms. Bennett was one of the strongest people Jack knew. She lost everything she had, including her husband, the man she'd once loved, and had two kids to raise on her own, and she still did it all without complaint. Jamie was a fantastic person and Jack knew Sophie was smarter beyond her years. She would get far in life.

Not wanting to dwell any more on the dreary subject, Jack cleared his throat and moved on. "The man's name is Sandy. He's a shooting star."

Jamie's eyes widened again, that sparkling light of wonder that he and his sister both had finding its way to the surface. "A _shooting star_?" At first, it sounded like he believed Jack a hundred percent, but after a moment, he gave a skeptical frown. "Wait, how does that make any sense? Stars aren't people, they're orbs made up of different gasses. They can't be sentient."

"Jamie," Jack chided, "we've literally fought against sentient _shadows_ , and you're trying to tell me stars can't have life too?"

It never took much to gain Jamie's belief. The guy was willing to believe in anything. It was one of the things Jack had always admired about him. "I...guess it could be possible," Jamie gave in. "Tell me about him." He was trying to act casual, but Jack knew he was barely concealing his excitement.

Jack took his time to explain in between bites of food just to build the suspense. "He's made up entirely of sand; golden sand. It glows and- wait. I can show you." Reaching around his neck, Jack removed the necklace Sandy gave him and showed it to Jamie, who held his hands out to pull it closer, but didn't take it away. "I think he calls it dream sand. Wearing it like this gives me good dreams or cancels out the bad."

Breathing out a quiet, " _Wow_ ," full of awe, Jamie carefully turned the hourglass back and forth in his hands, watching as the sand fell from one side to the other. "It really works?" He looked up when he let it go, watching as Jack replaced it around his neck. He never took it off, afraid of losing it. He was positive that it was the only thing keeping him from losing those shattered pieces of his mind he'd worked so hard to glue back together. At Jack's nod of confirmation, Jamie hummed, his lips thinning as the wheels turned briskly in his head. "Wait. So, if he can produce this sand that promotes good dreams..." He frowned, gaze hardening. "Jack, does he have something to do with the nightmare sand the shadows are made of?"

" _Were_ ," Jack corrected. He hesitated before continuing, knowing that they were suddenly diving into dangerous territory. "They're back to normal now. The shadows had Sandy kidnapped to use his sand for themselves, warping it with their powers to make it something negative."

When he saw Jamie open his mouth, he quickly cut him off, already beginning to feel his heart race in his chest. "I know you want an explanation, but I really don't want to say anymore than that." He gazed evenly at the other boy, trying to swallow the edge in his voice. "Not right now."

Jamie looked like he wanted to argue and try to push it anyway, but he conceded. "I hope one day you'll feel up to talking to me about what happened, but," he sighed, "I won't push it."

Giving him the briefest of smiles, Jack went on. "You haven't heard the best part, though. You know what they say about shooting stars, don't you?"

Instantly, Jamie's brighter demeanor returned. "You don't mean-"

"I do."

"They _can_ grant wishes?!"

Jamie's enthusiasm turned a few curious heads, but they were all ignored. The two boys were too involved in their own conversation to notice the people around them. "They can!" Jack confirmed, feeling his own excitement bubbling up just from the waves of it radiating off Jamie. He held up a single finger. "Just one, and there are conditions, but everyone's allowed to wish on him. He doesn't even have to be falling or anything."

"That's amazing!" Jamie enthused. "And you left him with Mom and Sophie?"

Jack nodded. "He was with me when I showed up there. Sophie took a liking to him. And you know your mom- She was all about figuring out how he works. Sandy's harmless, I promise."

"Wow," Jamie breathed again, sitting back in his seat as if he needed a moment to take it all in.

Jack laughed under his breath at his friend's amazement. If that was how he reacted just hearing about Sandy, he was almost regretful that he wouldn't get to see the look on Jamie's face when he actually met the star face-to-face. When he finished his meal, or most of it anyway, he dropped their trays off for those on kitchen duty and walked with Jamie out of the room, wondering what the other boy had planned for the rest of their day.

Only, Jamie was silent as they walked. He didn't seem to have a place in mind as they simply wandered up to the next level. When he hadn't said anything for too long, Jack began to fidget, pushing his hands together and watching him from the corner of his eye. He knew very well to never trust a quiet Bennett. It meant he was thinking.

Finally, before Jack could snap and ask what was on his mind, Jamie spoke quietly, curiously, like a child asking the future dreams of his friend at a sleepover when he should have been sleeping instead. "Did you make a wish?"

A small frown found its way to Jack's lips as he searched his mind for a proper response. It wouldn't seem like him to say that he hadn't. Growing up, Jack always talked about the things he would wish for if only he could, but looking back on it, they were all material. When he finally had a chance to make any wish he pleased, his mouth had gone dry, his mind blank. He saw no purpose in wishing if nothing he could ever ask for would be what he truly wanted. Sandy told him that those things were forbidden, so he gave up on wishing for anything, deciding once and for all that he would be better off not even bothering.

He knew Jamie was waiting for a response, so after a beat, Jack shook his head. "No, I never got around to it."

"Never got around to it?" Jamie echoed, pushing as he'd been expected to do. "I would think that you, of all people, would have a million things come to mind when you got the chance to make a wish."

Breathing out a tired, forced laugh, Jack merely shrugged. "Maybe that's just it. There were too many things to choose from that I couldn't pick just one, so I ended up picking none of them." It wasn't entirely untrue. He'd been afraid that if he wished for one thing, it would make him regret not wishing for something else instead. And what if what he wished for ended up not working out the way he hoped it would? He had a tendency of making the wrong decisions. The power of having a wish in the palms of his hands was just too much for him.

Beside him, Jamie snorted, hiding a smile behind his hand. When he saw Jack's frown deepen, he explained himself. "I was just thinking that you've become really mature over the last few months. Not just in the time you went missing, but before that, too." He sighed lightly, pointing his smile ahead of him. "I've always worried about you. When all of us would talk about what we wanted to do with our lives, you just talked about ice skating and tree forts. I was concerned you'd never find your place." He glanced at Jack from the corner of his eye, catching the shocked expression on the Commander's pale face. "I'm glad you've found it."

Jamie's words were like a meteor shower on the darkest night, illuminating Jack's dark and dreary skies with beauty through heartfelt words alone. Jack wasn't sure what to say, so instead, he made a show out of being choked up, holding a fist to his mouth and turning his head away, punching Jamie in the arm as he did, to the brunet's annoyance. "You're too good for this world, Jamie," Jack mock-cried. "You're straight out of a drama novel, the worst of the worst."

Rolling his eyes, Jamie punched him back just as hard, following by knocking their shoulders together. "When your IQ is still stuck in the fifth grade, I'm sure everything anyone says sounds like something out of a novel."

The majority of the day was spent with them relaxing in the saloon, talking over a game of cards. It was nice for Jack to feel himself laugh again, truly, _honestly_  laugh. They talked about normal things, things neither of them had the time to talk about in too long. Jamie told him about a talk he'd had with D'gell in the training room after the Officer gave him attitude and challenged him. Apparently, the two of them trained together quite often since then. The way Jamie talked about him was heated, with more frustration than Jack could ever remember him having towards anyone—besides himself, of course—but when he stated the obvious, _"You're totally crushing and it's kind of weird,"_  all he got was a snap of teeth and a semi-aggressive motion to keep playing.

 _D'gell_  of all people, though? All jokes aside, the idea of Jamie—his big-hearted, strong-willed Jamie bursting at the seams with the childlike wonder that got him moving through each day at a time—getting closer to the Officer with a violent spark in his bright eyes. D'gell was a firecracker lit at both ends. Everyone always said it was only a matter of time before he went off. Jack didn't want Jamie to end up in the blast zone if it ever happened. He trusted that Jamie could take care of himself, but he made a mental note to watch them closely regardless.

It was nice to talk about normal things again. It seemed like every time the two were around each other, Jamie felt the need to subtly try and bring up things Jack wasn't ready to talk about, which lead to him avoiding the Sergeant in the first place. For a short time, it made him remember the good parts of life, like the way Jamie got progressively angrier for each game of rummy he lost, and the way he and Grant bantered with each other when the Private came by to join their game, bringing a few friends along with him.

By the time they were headed back to the mess hall for dinner, Jack was all smiles, deeply into a thrilling discussion with Jamie over what they thought their friends were up to. "I might've seen Monty when I was back home, but I didn't stick around to say hi," Jack went on. "At least I think it was him. I'd hardly recognize him without his huge geek glasses. He was always tipping forwards."

"Oh, god, Monty?" Jamie made a face. "That's one person I _don't_  miss."

Jack grinned and nudged his shoulder. "He had the hugest puppy crush on you for the longest time. I've never seen someone pine so hard."

"What? No he didn't!"

"He did, too!" Jack raised his hand, counting off each finger as he prattled on. "He followed you _everywhere_ , he constantly pushed his way in on our sleepovers when we were kids, and I definitely caught him writing ' _J + M_ ' on the love tree."

Jamie scoffed and looked away, although he couldn't deny that his cheeks were cherry red. "That's a lie." He caustically jabbed Jack in the chest. "Are you sure the J didn't stand for _Jack_?"

Wrinkling his nose, Jack pretended to gag. "As if."

Dinner went as usual. They arrived late, so by the time they finished eating, there was hardly anyone left in the mess hall, so the two of them carried on the conversation they were having until Jamie suddenly cut Jack off. "Boa's coming over."

"Boa? Why?" Just out of habit, Jack immediately started running through his mind every detail of his day to make sure he hadn't done something that would've given her a reason to be angry at him. Then again, she could've been coming over just to tell him he was on galley duty. He hadn't peeled potatoes in so long, he was almost sure he'd forgotten how to, but he doubted it was anything he would ever actually forget. It seemed like something he would naturally know for the rest of his life.

Just as he looked up to see her, Boa had already reached their table and set down a small plate holding a single piece of chocolate cake in front of him. Jack stared at her for a long moment, confused as his mind tried to comprehend what was happening, why she'd brought it to their table, and to him of all people.

While he was trying to wrack his brain for an explanation, Jamie smiled at him from across the table. "Happy Birthday, Jack."

"Birthday?" he breathed, the wind lifted from his lungs as he tried to process those words in his mind. When reality finally dawned on him, his breath hitched in his throat. He was surprised to find tears wetting his eyes and it took all in his power to keep them from falling. There was a light quiver in his voice as he looked back down at the cake and whispered a quiet, "Oh."

"Jack?" Jamie's tone was laced with concern as he reached across the table to get his attention. "Are you okay?"

Breathing in slowly once, twice, three times to regain his composure, Jack allowed a smile to fall over his lips, raising his cheeks and lighting his icy eyes. "Yeah, Jamie. I'm good." He looked up at Boa for confirmation and she simply winked at him for the second time that day, motioning for him to take a bite. He lifted the fork and placed a small piece of the cake in his mouth, savoring the sweet flavor as the chocolate practically melted on his tongue. It reminded him of the good after the bad, of the times he and the rest of the crew ate a slice after a particularly taxing battle against the shadows, of all the times they celebrated not only their success, but in still having their lives.

"How is it?" Jamie asked after a moment.

If it was possible, Jack's smile only grew. "It's perfect."

After a moment, Boa wished Jack a happy birthday and returned to the kitchen to start with the clean up. As Jack took another bite, he shook his head, glancing up at Jamie who watched him happily from across the table. "I can't believe I forgot my own birthday."

Jamie shrugged, reaching across the table to stick his finger in the icing. "It's not that surprising," he replied, sticking his finger in his mouth and relishing the taste of chocolate. "You've been through a lot lately. It's only natural that your birthday wasn't exactly the first thing on your mind."

"I guess that's true," he agreed, waving his fork with a small piece of cake on it between them. Jamie leaned forward and took the bite, smiling appreciatively as he sat back in his seat.

A moment of silence was shared between them as Jack used his fork to gather up the remaining crumbs on the plate into a pile in the center of it. He tried to find the words in him to express his gratitude, but nothing sounded good enough. Words alone could never express how grateful he was to have a best friend like Jamie, who was too good for the world, nonetheless Jack, and yet it was Jack of all people that he'd decided to stick with through all the years. Without him, he would've been lost and still searching for where he belonged., wandering aimless through a winter storm until he froze to death. Jack couldn't imagine anyone who could have replaced Jamie if the brunet never pushed his way into his life like the sun after a long, weary night.

There was nothing he could do to ever make that kindness up to him. All he'd ever done was make Jamie's life harder than it ever needed to be, but no matter how many times Jack tried to push him away and lock himself away in solitude, the Sergeant would always be there for him when he was ready for company again. He was too patient, too kind, too... _everything_ ; perfect in every way. He was the best friend anyone could ever ask for and he was _Jack's_.

There was no way to put his feelings into words, so instead Jack sighed out a simple, "Thank you," with a smile following close behind.

Jamie met his eyes, looking surprised at first, as if he had no idea what Jack could ever thank him for- and that was just _it_. He didn't do the things he did for praise, or for good karma, or for anything petty or superficial like that. He did those things for Jack because they were the things he honestly wanted to do out of the kindness in his heart. It was important for him to see to Jack's happiness.

So he smiled, and he replied in the exact way Jack knew he would, "I'm glad."

The two boys fell into a peaceful, inter-mingled silence that only the best of friends could have, the kind of silence that didn't need words to fill. All either of them needed was each others' company to be satisfied. As long as their time was spent together, it didn't matter how it passed.

Jack was the one to break their extended moment. "Thanks for everything, Jamie, but I have someone I need to see before curfew."

Jamie didn't look hurt, only curious. "Who's that?"

"There's just someone else I want to spend my birthday with," Jack secretively replied.

Before Jamie could ask anymore questions, Jack quickly exited the mess hall, his boots padding against the quiet metal floors as he went from one level to the next, stopping only when he stood at the door to Pitch's office. He glanced up at the camera only out of habit, often wondering if Pitch had actually seen him arrive right away each time, or if he only claimed to to make himself sound cooler. Just in case, Jack knocked twice and waited for a response.

When Pitch's form filled the doorway, Jack felt his heart rise on the clouds behind his ribs. "Jack? I'm almost sur-"

"Are you alone?" Jack fervently interjected.

Something crossed Pitch's face much too fast for Jack to catch sight of. His eyes narrowed only a margin, his head tilting just slightly to confirm that yes, he absolutely was alone.

There was no time wasted as Jack flung himself into Pitch's arms, grabbing him tight from around the neck and pulling him into a heated kiss. Pitch's hands wrapped around the Commander's thin form, sliding into place at the small of his back as if the universe made them to fit there. Vaguely wary of the possibility of anyone passing by, he lead Jack into the room, walking backwards without a care for the table of tea they'd accidentally stumbled into, their minds only on the thoughts of each other.

As they crossed the room, their mouths rarely left one another, their hands glued to the other's form. It was a reminder of how much time they'd spent away from one another, how long it'd been since they'd done anything like what they were getting to do then. It was a wonder that they managed to spend any time apart at all when they were so desperate to have each other. The proof came in the moans breathed heavily from one mouth to the other, in the nails that dug themselves under soft layers of skin until criss-crossing trails of blazing fire were left behind in their wake, in the way they tried to push themselves closer together even though they were so close already, as if they were trying to merge with the heat rolling off their bodies.

Pitch took to the seat that Jack seemed to enjoy so much, pulling the younger man closer by the hips, chin tilted up to meet his heated gaze. "And to what do I owe this pleasure?" he purred, his voice alone enough to raise goosebumps on Jack's over-expectant skin.

"It's my birthday," Jack breathed, his teeth showing behind his cheeky grin.

Pitch's brows rose. "Is it? And yet you still look so young." He chuckled, his voice dropping to dangerously low levels as he hooked a belt loop with a thin finger. "So what does the birthday boy wish for?" He was so close, that when he spoke, his breath tickled the sensitive skin showing just under Jack's shirt. Well aware of the reaction it caused, Pitch leaned forward and kissed that revealed bit of skin, catching the light, subtle jolt of Jack's form as he did so. "Isn't there anything you want?"

Jack stuttered on a sigh, his hand falling on its own to Pitch's hair, smoothing it back until his fingers caught hold of the fine inky locks, curling within them. "I want you." As his icy blues met with shimmering silvers, he could only hope that the sincerity of his words would be shone through the desperate, boiling heat in his tone. "Pitch, I want you _so bad_."

The sparks in Pitch's eyes were illuminated by Jack's words. His nails scraped a fine line along the bones of Jack's hips that followed down past the waist of his pants. "Your wish is my command."

As his eyes left the other's, he looked towards the body instead, both hands finding their way under Jack's shirt, revealing more of the soft, pale skin underneath. Each spot of flesh his lips brushed against became littered with goosebumps. Even from his spot down below, he could feel the hitch in Jack's breath as he unhooked the belt of his pants. Soon after, the button came undone, followed by the slow, arduous pull of the zipper.

Already, Jack was notably hard behind the thin material of his boxers, and the breath falling against him was only encouragement towards the case at hand. A startled whimper broke from his lips as Pitch suddenly nuzzled against the most sensitive part of him. There were lips only over the material of his boxers, but the material between them didn't drive any of the warmth away. Jack pulled sharply at Pitch's hair, only stopping when he heard a faint hiss of pain from below.

"So-sorry," he shakily breathed.

But as he started to move his hand away, Pitch shook his head and quickly reached up to return it to his hair. "Don't," he encouraged. "I don't mind it. I want you to keep it there."

Once Jack did as he was told, Pitch returned his attention to the matter at hand until the front of the boxers were soaked all the way through from both ends. Jack's knees shook and he feared that he might collapse, but Pitch had a firm hand against his back while the other trailed under the boxer's elastic waistband.

It wasn't until Jack found his voice to plea for Pitch to _touch_  him that the General finally removed the boxers all the way. When Jack's throbbing member hit the air, he groaned both in relief and in an insatiable ecstasy. He desperately pushed his hips forward, only for Pitch to hold him back by the hips so he could kiss a teasing line along the edges of his thighs. His nails scraped small rivers of lava against Jack's skin, tracing over them as they faded away too quickly.

And from above him, Jack groaned in pleasure-induced agony, the blood pulsing painfully in his veins, the heat going to his head in the way that made him feel both delightfully dazed and terribly alert as his senses erupted on overdrive. "Pitch, _please_ ," he begged, his voice barely more than a stuttered moan. "Please, Pitch, _fuck me_."

Only nothing could have prepared him for the sensation of Pitch's mouth on his cock. The General sucked in too soon and Jack's knees buckled as he nearly came right then.

The heated concaves of Pitch's mouth, doubled with the slick, slippery kneads of his gifted tongue, drew out shaken moans from Jack's parted lips. The breath left his lungs as all he could do to keep himself standing was to bend over and roughly pull tufts of thick, inky hair, feeling each strand through the spaces between his fingers. He could feel every bit of Pitch's mouth as it wrapped around him, every drop of saliva left from base to tip, and every time Pitch's cheeks closed in like tight, wet walls. Each time brought Jack closer to his breaking point. The only thoughts that filled his mind were Pitch. _Pitch_.

" _Pitch_ -"

The volcano under Jack's skin erupted to the surface, riding through his veins and throwing lights behind his eyes until the pressure of ecstasy fell out of him. He came with nearly no warning in Pitch's mouth, his fingers curling painfully in the silky locks of the General's hair. To his heated embarrassment, Pitch swallowed it all, removing his mouth simply to swipe a thumb across his lips.

When Pitch moved his hand away, Jack's knees nearly gave way beneath him, but the General was quick to catch him before he fell, pulling him onto his lap where he would no longer need to support himself. Moving almost instinctively, Jack guided Pitch's lips to his own, musing at the taste of himself on his lover's tongue.

As he pulled away, he drew his tongue curiously over his lips, making an odd face in the end. "Gross."

Pitch laughed lightly, tiredly running his fingers through Jack's mess of milky locks. "That's hardly what you were thinking before."

Rolling his eyes, Jack kissed him again, slow and languid, in no hurry to go anywhere or do anything more than just wait out the last sparks of his high that remained. "You're amazing," he breathed, a lopsided grin falling over his lips.

Pitch pressed their foreheads together, curling his lips just the same. "Happy Birthday, Jack."

"What a birthday." Jack laughed quietly, letting his tired eyes close briefly. "Definitely in one of my top three."

Pursing his lips, Pitch didn't hesitate to pinch his arm, glancing innocently away as Jack's eyes flew open to glare at him. "While you're here, I would like to make a request."

Already feeling the exhaustion following his high, Jack rested his head in the crook of Pitch's neck, letting his eyes slip close once again. He hummed pleasantly when he felt fingers take to his hair, absently playing with the locks. "What would that be?"

If Pitch seemed to hesitate, it was only for a moment. "Tomorrow, we'll be nearing the Gemini Constellation, where Seraphina stays with her grandparents. They plan to move to another area and wish for me to take her off their hands while they make the move, so she'll be on board the _Nova_  for an unknown period of time. Since we haven't seen much of the shadows lately, I decided it was about time that I get to see her again." He shifted, careful not to disturb Jack's position on his lap. "Usually, she only comes aboard for very brief periods of times, a week at most. My problem is that I'm still very busy and don't have the time to give her the attention she needs."

Jack began drifting off with the long explanation, only waking when he remembered he was supposed to be listening. All he really wanted to do was lay there in silence until he fell asleep, although he knew Pitch would be waking him in only a few minutes to get to his cabin before curfew. "Mhmm?"

"I'll need someone to watch her while I'm busy with other things," Pitch went on, voice low. "I'm requesting that you be that person."

Perking up a bit, Jack frowned, blinking his eyes part-way open as he tried to process the enormity of the request through his sleepy daze. "You...want me to watch over your daughter?" It was a big thing to ask. It was a _huge_  thing to ask. Seraphina was Pitch's _everything_ , his whole world and then some, all he had left of the life he once lived. Jack didn't doubt that if something were to ever happen to her, Pitch would be lost, broken beyond repair.

"Yes," Pitch confirmed, his tone as sure as ever. "I would need you to give her distraction, make sure she's safe, act as her guardian from the moment she steps on board the _Nova_  to the moment she steps off. There's no one else on this vessel that I trust more than you. I trust that you will take proper care of her."

"Pitch, I..." Jack wasn't sure what to say. A spark of panic flickered within him as he considered what Pitch was truly asking of him. It meant the world to him that the General trusted him so much to take care of someone so important to him, but at the same time, Jack wasn't sure if he'd made the right decision in choosing him to do the job, to protect Seraphina if anything were to ever happen. He couldn't even protect his own sister, who was nearly the same age Seraphina was, so how could he be trusted to protect someone else's most precious person? "I-I don't know, Pitch. I don't think-"

"Think it over," Pitch soothingly insisted, moving so that Jack had to lift his head to meet his gaze. The sincerity in his silvery gaze was encouraging. "I did not make the wrong decision. I know you may be second-guessing your ability to handle this responsibility, but I promise there's no one more qualified than you." He gave Jack a small, reassuring smile, trailing his hand down the Commander's cheek. "You have until tomorrow afternoon to give me an answer. She'll be here just before dinner."

Jack was still hesitant, but the good feelings he still had inside him after being with Pitch were eating away at the anxiety that kept trying to rise. "I'll think it over."

"Thank you." Pitch moved Jack's bangs out of the way to place a kiss on his forehead. "Now, I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave. It's nearly curfew."

Groaning childishly, Jack latched himself onto Pitch's form. "Can't you carry me there?"

Pitch snorted. "Hardly. I don't know if you've yet to realize this, but you're still not wearing pants. I doubt it would go over well for the crew to see me carrying an oversized toddler to his room."

Jack petulantly blew air out of his mouth, moving slowly and lazily, purposely taking as much time as he possibly could just so he could spend a few extra minutes with Pitch. Once he pulled his pants back on, he leaned over the chair and placed a kiss on Pitch's lips, smiling as he did. "Thanks for this."

Smiling back at him, Pitch let the kiss linger for as long as he thought he could, only pulling away to look back into Jack's frosty eyes. "Happy Birthday, Jack." After another unfortunately brief kiss, he was turning Jack towards the door. "Goodnight."

Sighing pleasantly, Jack gave him a wave over his shoulder, feeling better than he'd had in what felt like too long. "Goodnight, Pitch."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mirror, mirror, on the wall, will I ever be consistent with smut at all?
> 
> Probably not, no.
> 
> Happy Birthday, Jack! Oh, and what's this? Have we finally been given a gateway to Seraphina's grand entrance? Get excited!


	22. Chapter 22

“A bridge of silver wings stretches from the dead ashes of an unforgiving nightmare to the jeweled vision of a life started anew.”

― _Aberjhani, Journey through the Power of the Rainbow: Quotations from a Life Made Out of Poetry_

\--

Jack dreamt of Olivia.

It wasn’t anything bad, of course. It couldn’t be anyway, not with the dream sand that hung on the thin chain around his neck, always placed closest to his heart whenever he slept lying on his back, which was more often than not. As he stirred from sleep, Jack found himself staring up at the ceiling where the lights had come on to remind him that it was time for him to start his day. He took the sheets of his bed and gripped them tightly enough to turn his knuckles a snowy white, reflecting the frozen, winter wasteland threatening to overtake the exuberant forest that was only _just_  beginning to fill the swamps that had previously resided there. It wasn’t a storm, not quite yet, rather, it was the calm before it would begin. He could only hope his day would have it eventually pass through rather than let it rage on.

His eyes were on the lights, but the lights were not what he was seeing. Jack was seeing a bright face full of summer suns, a smile sweeter than sugar, a laugh that brought the spring after winter. He saw hair the color of the bark on the trees he loved to climb, eyes the color of the fallen leaves that left a crunch underfoot on the way home from school. He saw his light, his sun, the very center of his own, personal universe. And she not only stood before him, but she’d taken him by the hand and pulled him along, speaking words he’d already regretfully forgotten. They probably didn’t matter, but they never had to. He could always listen to her go on for days at a time.

There were no shadows in that dream of his, only light, only Olivia. For all he could recall, they had been alone there in the recesses of his mind, wandering far beyond the walls he’d tried to trap the memories of her behind. While he’d walked with sandbags at his feet, she had moved with purpose, a skip in her step, and Jack was sure that he never would have moved at all if it weren’t for her pulling him along so persistently.

Her hands were no longer in his own. In their place were merely sheets, rough to the touch, bundled between his fingers. And for once, Jack wished he could return the dream, wished to forget about reality, to remove himself from the waking world altogether, so long as he could feel her hand in his again, hear her lyrical voice dancing around his ears, see her before him in her true form, and not the dark, coal-colored lie he’d once saw her as.

The dream sand could not produce nightmares. It could only either cancel out the bad or bring forth the good. However, for all the terrible, heart-pounding, fear-induced dreams he’d ever had, the kind that often left him wanting to scrub the furthest corners of his mind and caused him to startle just on a blink, Jack thought they only paled in comparison to the pain that a good dream such as that could induce. It was easy to remind himself that the bad things were over. Waking from a nightmare was easy. They made reality worth living. Oh, but a _good_  dream, with all the memories of what he’d lost, of the things he would never have again, the people he would never see, could never have- those were the types of dreams that could ruin a person. They were the true wolves in sheep's clothing, hiding their malevolence with a thick coat of wool.

In contrast to a nightmare, a good dream could be enough to make reality not worth living. To wake from an ideal place and time into a world where he was forced to live without, left Jack with a strong sense of longing deep within him. It gave him the desire to reach out and hold something that he knew would not be there, to touch something ethereal, impossible. A heavy ache hooked itself into his heart, lodging itself in a way that made it painful and difficult to move. For every small action he made, the hook would only drive itself deeper, slowly, a millimeter at a time. He feared that if he moved too much, he would lose the hook inside of himself and never be able to get it out.

Seeing Olivia again had been too much. It wasn’t fair how such a pleasant dream could leave him with tears in his eyes, acidic drops that burned against his flesh as they rolled down his cheeks and stained the pillow behind his head.

The longer Jack remained conscious, the further away Olivia seemed, and that gave him an all new fear. Already, only three years after the fact, he had begun to forget the smaller details of his father. He couldn’t recall which way the man combed his hair, or if it changed colors under light, or if he was the one who had a great love for sugar-cinnamon apples or if that was someone else. It forced Jack to wonder how much time he had before he would begin to forget the details of his mother, of Olivia, and how much time it would be before he forgot about them completely. Would he someday look back and forget the way Olivia’s voice squeaked when she laughed, and the way her hair flew into her eyes whenever a gust of wind passed by?

Suddenly, Jack rose from his bed. He nearly cracked his face on the floor as he tripped out of it, his foot tangled in the covers until he was able to shake it free on the way to the bathroom. Once he reached the toilet, there was only enough time for him to drop to his knees before he emptied all the contents of the chocolate cake and blueberry pancakes he’d had the day before from his stomach. A groan passed his lips, followed by a wet heave as the remnants of the soup he had for lunch passed through his systems, making his vomit more liquid than solid. All the things that had given him such lovely feelings the day before were now grouped together in a bowl. It was as if his body was rejecting any positive things he allowed himself to have inside. _That's depressing._

As he flushed, his eyes turned away from the disgusting display swirling down the drain. He leaned back against the wall, trying to catch his breath and wipe away the cold sweat that had broken out against his skin. The Nova had a regulated temperature, one that kept out the cold, but also didn’t bring in any heat. It was never leaning more one way than the other. Regardless, Jack still felt chilled to the bone. He shivered and rubbed his hands over his arms, hoping to spark some sort of warmth back into his body, but it felt more like twisting two thin sticks against each other amidst a snowstorm.

He didn’t dare close his eyes for any longer than it took to blink, petrified of what he might find lurking towards the surface of his consciousness. He sat there, back against the hard, metallic wall of the airship’s interior, two feet from the toilet, for much longer than he’d meant to. At some point, his mind had fogged over, and he only snapped to when his pounding heart reminded him that he was thinking about Olivia again.

Rising to his feet, Jack shook his head back and forth, as if doing so might shake the many thoughts accumulating in his head. There was a walled-up room somewhere in the back of his mind, always hidden just under the line between his conscious and subconscious state, kept under lock and key to hide what lied beyond its splintered doors. He felt as though he continually had to check the locks, double and triple checking, just to be absolutely sure they would not open. It was an irrational, obsessive compulsive action, igniting a habit that was threatening to form.

Deciding not to dwell on his thoughts any further, Jack went on with his morning like usual. Only, by the time he’d brushed his teeth, showered, and changed, it wasn’t morning any longer. In fact, it was noon, and the people out in the corridors were all making their ways to the mess hall for lunch.

Watching them go, Jack stood just outside his door, feeling shocked that he hadn’t noticed all the time that had passed. It began to make him worry about yet another thing, but just with everything else before it, he pushed it down, shoved it behind that quickly filling room that would eventually threaten to burst past the doors only from the pressure of all the things crammed inside. He checked that the doors were locked once again before moving on.

Jamie wasn't able to meet him for lunch since he was too busy with his duties. He'd requested that someone take his place so he could take the day before off to spent that time with Jack instead, so he had to make it up by working a double-shift so the person who took his place could have a day off as well. When Jack heard about that, it only made him more grateful to have a friend like Jamie. There were things that concerned him about the other man, like the odd situation with D'gell, but he supposed it wasn't immediately concerning. He didn't trust D'gell, not when he was the spark of bad influence that drove Cas down the bad road he went. The look in his light colored eyes was a crazy one, a thread pulled too tight. Jack was afraid of him snapping. Hell, lots of people were. The guy could be a menace.

So long as it remained a sort of passive-aggressive rivalry of sorts, Jack supposed he could allow it to go on. Jamie had other friends on board besides Jack, mostly older Officers since he got along better with them than with the Privates. There were other people who occupied his time. His thoughts wouldn't _always_  be on Jack and him only, so the Commander understood that Jamie was perfectly capable of developing and handling his own relationships, whatever sort they may be.

"Overland? Yo, bird-brain!"

Jack snapped from his thoughts on the subject to find Grant sitting across from him at the table. He blinked, squinting his eyes, wondering how long the Private had been there and how long he'd been trying to get his attention.

"You don't gotta give me a look like that," Grant snorted. He took a sizable bite out of his burger and spoke around it. Jack decided it was only funny when it was him doing it to someone else and not when it was someone else doing it towards him. "I just got here. You didn't hear me when I said hey the first time, so I tried a lil' more." He swallowed before it looked like he'd finished chewing enough. It almost appeared painful, but if it was, his expression hadn't shown it. "What's on your mind, Commander?"

Jack looked him up and down, opting to take a sip of his drink rather than dig back into his food. Grant had a bad habit of being a disgusting eater, especially when he was in the mood to talk, which was pretty much all the time.

"Not much," Jack shrugged, nonchalant. "I'd ask you the same, but we both know it's empty."

He couldn't help but smirk as Grant feigned offense at the comment. "That's low, Overland. What kind of crater crabs got in your pants this morning?"

Again, Jack shrugged. He wasn't very much in the mood for conversation, but he knew if he was left alone again, it would be with his thoughts, and he wasn't very enthusiastic about that option either, so he tried to wrack his mind for something to talk about that would keep Grant out of his hair.

Fortunately—or perhaps, it might've been more on the unfortunate side—Millie approached his table before he had to think of anything to say. She sat herself down in the chair to Jack's right, setting down her tray of food with even less on it than he had. Grant looked surprised to see her and Jack had to agree that he felt the same. He hadn't spoken to, or even seen much of, Millie since the whole incident with Cas. He'd assumed she was going through a sort of depression of her own, what with her brother making a fool of himself in front of not only the majority of the crew, but also in front of the General and, probably worse of all, the Captain.

Whenever they were in the same vicinity as one another, neither shared a word, never bothering to even meet each other's eyes. There was nothing for Jack to say, really. What, reasonably, could he say? _"Sorry your brother's a giant asshole?_ " or _"I know it seems like it's my fault he turned out like this, but I swear it's not. Well, maybe a little, but not totally anyway."_

Was he supposed to blame himself for Cas's quickly deteriorating mental state? He supposed he had a tendency to push buttons, Cas's more than any others, but could Jack really be blamed for what happened to the Officer in the end? If Cas had only chose to ignore him from the beginning instead of letting the things Jack did get to him, then he probably never would have ended up that way. Although, in that case, it was still on Jack in a way. There had to be other factors, though, didn't there? The Officer really started losing it once he got poisoned. He grew paranoid, started conjuring up ridiculous theories that never really made any sense. In the end, the dues he paid should be considered of his own doing and no one else's.

So why, in the face of Millie, did Jack feel so guilty? He felt as though he owed her something—something that he couldn't quite pay back in material possessions, probably not even something he could actually _give_. It was just a gut-feeling, a swirling pool of negativity that he got whenever he caught sight of her out of the corner of his eyes. Maybe, if he were to truly analyze the situation over the past couple of weeks, it wasn't that she just hadn't been out and about all that time, but that he'd made a conscious effort to avoid her whenever he could.

And now she sat there before him, within reaching distance, only a foot or two away, head hung, eyes low, posture as good as ever but still...lacking something. Effort, perhaps? Or maybe, more accurately, her _spirits_.

Her eyes rose to meet his own and, again, he felt that spark of guilt singe the inner walls of his stomach. His appetite, or what little of it he had, dropped even more. "Wipe that sorry look off your face, Overland. I'm not here to start anything," Millie sighed, heavy and drawn-out. It was surprising she bothered to continue holding herself at all when she looked as if she might deflate any moment. "I'm not here to talk about what you think I'm here to talk about. And don't try to play me; I know that look on your face. You're easier to read than you think."

Fumbling for a response, Jack let out a meek, curious, "So what are you here for?"

"Is it for me?" Grant chimed, ever the charmer.

Although Jack wasn't able to see it since she turned away, the look Millie gave the Private must have been a dangerous one, because Grant, still smiling as if he'd forgotten how to move his facial muscles properly, looked more like a small dog shaking in his boots. Jack would've pitied him if he hadn't thought it was so funny.

His smile hid itself when Millie turned her look back his way. He feared for her answer, but she didn't look as fierce as she once did. Rather, she seemed to lack substance. Jack was almost inclined to think that she resembled the reflection of himself in a mirror.

She surprised him with her response. "I don't know," she uttered, sounding honest. "I just thought why not, you know? I used to just follow Cas around everywhere. Him or D'gell. And now that Cas isn't around, I can't stand more than ten minutes with that ass D'gell. I don't know how I ever did it before, but," she shrugged, lost for words, "you know."

Jack actually didn't know, but he asked no further questions on it. "So you're just here to...what? Hang out?"

She snorted, an amused smirk curling her lips. "Yeah, hang out. With you guys. Why not?" She definitely didn't sound very enthusiastic about it. If anything, she made it sound like hanging out with the two of them was basically the same as hitting rock bottom. It was like her going to their table was just her admitting it to herself. "So, boys, what're we talking about?" She glanced around the room, her gaze falling back on Jack. "I don't see Sergeant Puppy-Eyes around today. I thought you boys were attached at the hip."

Jack laughed. "'Sergeant Puppy-Eyes'? You mean Jamie?" He laughed again, making a mental note to bring that one up later. "He took the day off yesterday so he's pulling a double shift today."

Grant nodded, back to shoveling food in his mouth. If there was any tension between Jack and Millie, he was oblivious to it. "Yeah, yesterday was Overland's birthday."

"Oh really?" she drawled, eyes narrowed suggestively as her fingers danced across the table towards Jack's hand. "Did you happen to get a little birthday gift from that certain someone?" She drug a finger down his arm, just barely grazing the skin.

Flushed, Jack glanced away, knowing it was useless when she'd already read what came to mind. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Grant glanced between the two of them, appearing left out. He followed the finger that trailed Jack's arm with his gaze, looking glum that it wasn't _his_  arm Millie was touching.

After swallowing his bite of food, he cleared his throat loud enough to divert their attention away from each other. "So did you guys hear that the General's daughter is supposed to be coming on board this afternoon? What's-her-name."

"Seraphina," Millie and Jack said together.

"Jinx!" Jack quickly called, grinning widely when Millie only rolled her eyes and murmured something about being reminded of her hatred for boys.

Grant laughed pointedly, sounding forced and awkward and louder than it needed to be, as if he were still trying to force himself between the connection the two of them obviously had. "Yeah, so, _anyway_. Does she come aboard often or is this, like, a one-time deal?"

"What's it matter?" Millie asked, sounding bored again already. "She comes on every once in a while, but it's usually only for a couple of days when we're stopped off to get more supplies. The Captain told me she'd be here longer this time around, though. Something about moving, I don't know. I don't really care." Raising an eyebrow at the Private, the corners of her lips rose teasingly. "If you're thinking of getting somewhere with the General's daughter, think again pig-boy. She's nine."

"I wasn't!" Grant protested, cheeks flaring red. "I wouldn't think about _that_ , especially not with the _General's_  daughter of all people."

"Oh yeah?" she purred, swirling her finger on the silvery, metallic surface of the table in front of him. "So who _would_  you think _that_  about, then?"

"I- I, I gotta, gotta go," Grant suddenly announced. His cheeks were dyed cherry red from his ears to the start of his neck. Jack would've laughed if he hadn't felt so much pity for the poor guy. He doubted he would ever have the heart to tell him the truth about Millie. "I'll, I'll see you later, okay, Overland? I've just- just got stuff to do." He was gone in a moment's notice, having dumped his tray and scurried off to who-knows-where. Jack really wished he hadn't accidentally imagined that the place might be the bathroom.

"What's that face for, Overland?" Millie mused, wry smile on her lips as she took the apple from her tray and turned it over in her hand. "You think that was too much? He's just a kid, anyway." She sighed, her smile falling away as she caught her reflection in the apple's shiny surface. "Shit, you're just a kid, too. You're really hanging with the A crowd now, Jé."

"Oh, like the last ones you hung out with were any better?" Jack shot back, taking a last bite of his food. Being reminded of Seraphina left a sour feeling the pit of his stomach. He was already regretting going out in front of people. He suddenly just wanted to be left alone to think over his decision. "Well, sorry to be such a let down, I guess, but I'm heading out."

When he got to his feet, Millie rose with him, walking by his side to drop off their trays. "Oh, what, so you can go off sulking again? Let's face it Overland, these days, neither of us have a lot of options for friends. You're not the worst face I've ever seen, so let me stick around a while."

"I'm surprised you want to be my friend at all," Jack muttered. He hadn't meant to say it out loud, only realizing that the words had slipped past his lips when Millie gave him such a look of surprise. He turned away, looking ahead instead. "Forget it. Look, I've got some stuff to do, too. I don't have time to walk around and chat."

He picked up his pace when leaving the mess hall, but Millie easily caught up to him, falling in step at his side once again. "No, you don't. We're going to talk about this." When he refused to meet her eye, she sighed. "This is about Cas, isn't it?" She sighed a second time, pinching the bridge of her nose much in the way that Jamie had a habit of doing. "It seems like every time we talk, it's about him."

Jack was silent. He didn't want to think about Cas. He didn't want to think about the guilt he had whenever Millie was around. He just wanted to go to his room and try to find a way to convince Pitch that he simply wasn't cut out to be Seraphina's guardian.

But Millie was determined. She wasn't going to let it go so easily. "Is it about what happened when Cas got discharged? Just because I tried to fight for his side again that day doesn't mean I believe what he said. Elva's assured me that you're _not_  a traitor, and even if she hadn't told me anything, I still would've trusted your word over his. He might be my brother, but-"

"That's not it," Jack cut in, teeth together as he spoke. "It's not that I'm worried you think I'm a traitor. It's just that I-" He stopped himself, sighed, tried to gather his thoughts. Millie waited patiently for him to speak again. His shoulders fell as another sigh left his lips, leading Millie down towards the sixth level of the _Nova_  where there would be less people wandering about. "Don't you blame me for what happened?"

Her face twisted in confusion. "Blamed you? For what happened with Cas? That he ended up discharged?" When Jack nodded, her lips pursed thoughtfully. She considered her words before she spoke again. "I... To be honest, I think, in the beginning, I did blame you. I tried avoiding you for a while, which wasn't so hard since you started showing up less often. I kept thinking that if you'd never provoked Cas in the first place, and then again that second time, he never would've ended up this way."

She sighed, reaching back to tighten her ebony pony tail. Her hands dropped heavily at her sides. "But that was wrong." They stopped outside the conference room on the sixth floor and she looked around to make sure they were alone, that nobody was listening in or would interrupt them. When she was satisfied, she pulled Jack towards her and cupped his chin in her hand to force him to look at her. Still, the look in her eyes was nothing vile. They were soft, like the stardust sprinkled on fancy desserts. "Blaming you was wrong, Overland. Cas always would've been the way he is now. If it wasn't you, it would've been someone else. He would've found a way. Making up excuses for how he ended up is only enabling him even more and I've done far too much of that already."

She smiled, the softness in her eyes reflecting in her expression as she leaned up on her toes to pass a kiss to Jack's cheek. As she pulled away, she patted the same spot and let him go. "Cas has done enough towards you already. Don't let him continue to bring you down after he's already been taken care of. Just be glad that he won't be a problem anymore." She laughed shortly. "Honestly, I am. I might complain, but I'm actually enjoying my freedom from not having to worry about what kind of trouble he's getting himself into or what kind of mess he'll make."

Jack met her smile with one of his own, feeling lighter somehow. "Thanks, Millie. I needed that." He never knew how much that guilt had been weighing down on him until it'd finally gone away. It was refreshing being able to loosen one of his many knots of worry. There were so many things for him to fuss over each and every day that having even just _one_  less thing made it that much easier to breathe. "You know, besides your looks, you're not really A list either."

She pinched his cheek when he grinned. "Don't let that cute face of yours be your downfall, Overla-" She paused, glancing at him with a curious expression. "Actually, you know, I think I like 'Jack' better. It's less of a mouthful. What d'you say?"

"Sounds good to me, _Jé_."

She mocked a shudder. "Don't say it like that. It sounds creepy coming out of your mouth."

He laughed, moving away from her so they could keep walking. If anyone came around and saw the two of them standing alone and so close to each other in the hall, they might start getting the wrong idea. Now that nearly the whole ship knew that Millie and Cas were siblings instead of lovers (a fact that tons of gossipers nearly blew the roof over when they found out), the last thing Jack needed was for people to assume he was dating the sister of his enemy.

"So," Millie went on after a moment, tapping his shoulder with her own, "there's something else that's been on your mind, isn't there? What's that about?"

Jack tensed, frowning over at her. He wondered if she was really that perceptive or if he was actually easier to read than he thought. It seemed to be easy for Pitch and Jamie to always know he was thinking about something, but he always just assumed it was because he was so close to the two of them. He could consider Millie a friend now, but despite a few conversations, mostly all concerning Cas, neither of them had really interacted much in the past.

"It's not a big deal," he stiffly replied. He wasn't sure he wanted to discuss the problem, especially when he was pretty sure he already had the answer. The issue was that he didn't know how to bring it up to Pitch.

Sighing when she didn't look away, Jack went on despite his earlier words. "Since Seraphina's going to be on the _Nova_  for longer than usual, Pitch asked me to be her guardian while she's on board."

"Woah," Millie whistled. "That's big stuff, loverboy. But, so what? You seem like you'd be pretty good around kids. What's the problem?"

"I'm not," Jack sharply replied. To his surprise, Millie didn't have any reaction at the biting response, her expression blank and patient. She remained silent, neither pressing for an explanation nor telling him to control his temper. With a sigh, Jack ran his fingers through his hair. He wasn't sure why he was feeling so open when he'd felt so closed up the last couple of weeks. Despite their history, however brief and unpleasant it may have been, Millie seemed to just have a way about her that made it easy to talk to her. Jamie was too concerned with fixing everything and he had a tendency to push until he drove Jack to a breaking point, whether the Commander was ever ready for it or not. Being around him could just be stressful in those times. And Pitch was older, more in-tune with himself and his feelings. Even if he didn't mean to, sometimes speaking to him just made Jack feel like his problems were too minuscule, almost irrelevant.

With Millie, she was older, but not so much older that she could be quite so sure that those feelings would pass. She was close enough in age to understand that sometimes Jack's feelings just needed validation, rather than some kind of cure or advice he never asked for. With her, he could get his thoughts and feelings out without having to worry about the consequences of how it might make the other person act towards him. She wouldn't change, regardless of what he was going through.

That drove him to continue. "I don't want to go through the details of it, but the shadows attacked my planet a few years ago in the Orion Constellation. I was supposed to be watching my sister, Olivia, so she wouldn't get taken by the shadows, but I left her alone to try and help my parents and when I turned around, the Fearlings had her. She's gone now." The admission to himself that she was really gone for good felt almost second nature by then. He didn't feel as if he'd gotten over it, not by a long shot, but at the very least he could get it out without falling apart. "If she was still alive, she would be the same age as Seraphina is now. If I couldn't protect my own family from harm, how am I supposed to protect someone else's?"

Millie listened, only a small drop in the corners of her lips as an indication of her sympathy towards his short tale. There was a dull, far-off look in her eyes as she continued to stare straight ahead, voice soft, low, but clear enough for Jack to catch what she was saying without having to strain. "Jack, do you believe in second chances?"

He was thrown off-guard by her question. "Second chances?" He had to think a moment, lips thinned into a straight line. "I- I suppose so." His shake of the head was a motion to show that he hadn't answered as he meant to. Millie waited patiently for him to try again. Jack thought he understood what she was getting at, and so he'd answered too quickly, hesitantly. He'd answered as if he were referring strictly to himself and that wasn't the question she'd asked. He needed to answer more honestly. "I believe people can have second chances."

"Do you believe they _deserve_  them?"

At that point, Jack turned his gaze towards the Officer walking by his side, furrowing his brow. She didn't seem to notice. She appeared lost in her thoughts, only in the present situation as far as the words they passed between them and nothing more. Jack was sure that if a wall were to suddenly appear, she would walk right into it, but he didn't ask her about it because it would make him seem like he was avoiding the question, and she seemed like she was looking forward to the answer.

He wondered if this was just about him any longer.

Again, he considered his answer, speaking what he felt to be true. "I think people make mistakes because we're only human," he went on, turning his gaze away from her as he carefully worded his reply. "Even if the person's made consciously bad decisions in the past, they can still change to be better later on, just like someone who's good can end up bad. So, yeah, I do think people deserve a second chance, as long as they use the mistakes they've made to make it count."

Suddenly, Millie barked a laugh. It startled Jack so much that he stopped walking, foot still hovering in the air as he turned to look at her. Considering the fact that he'd just given her his honest feelings on a subject he thought was important to her, for _her_  sake, he couldn't help but feel a little put-off by her response. "Did I say something funny?"

She turned her grin towards him, shaking her head. "No, Jack, that was good. I just want you to think about what you said and reconsider your decision to turn down Pitch's proposal." She winked and grabbed him by the belt loop of his pants, giving him a tug to get him walking again. "Remember: those were your words, not mine. It seems like you've figured it out all on your own."

He sputtered, wrinkling his nose and giving her a frown as he caught up to her. He wanted to be mad, but he honestly couldn't bring himself to be. "But- I- I thought _you_  were suddenly feeling bad!" he argued, crossing his arms over his chest.

She shrugged. "I don't have a clue what you're talking about, Commander."

"But-"

"Oh, look where we ended up."

Jack blinked, pausing his articulate comeback before he could even get it out when he realized that they had somehow, in the midst of their conversation, ended up at the short set of stairs leading to the quarter deck. At the very top of them lied the door to Pitch's office, where he was surely waiting inside for their arrival in the Gemini Constellation and for Jack's answer to the question he'd posed the night before.

Jack stared up at them before directing a glare at Millie. "You know, you're a lot trickier than I imagined. I should keep an eye on you."

She shrugged, giving him a nudge in the back. "You think you're the only one on this hunk of space junk who's had to find ways to entertain themselves? You should've seen me in my prime."

He snorted. "Aren't you, like, only a few years older than me?"

"Oh, we've come to the 'age' question," she averted. "That's my cue to leave." Before she turned away, she patted Jack on the cheek, giving him a small, sincere smile. "Treat yourself the same as you'd treat others, okay? You've got this." With that said, she turned and sauntered away.

Jack waited until she was out of sight before making his way up the short flight of stairs. He paused outside the office, hand up, but not quite ready to knock just yet. He felt surprisingly calmer than he had earlier, as if he'd finally stepped out of the quicksand and was back to walking on solid ground. There were still obstacles ahead for him to face, but the challenges of the past were over. _Treat yourself the same as you'd treat others._

Taking a deep breath in, he moved to knock, only to come in contact with air as the doors slid open. Pitch stood before him, smiling warmly as he moved aside to welcome him into the office. "I was wondering if you would come to see me at all," he stated, following behind Jack as the Commander wandered ahead. Reaching out for him, Pitch turned Jack around so they were facing each other, tilting his chin up to meet his shimmery silver eyes. "I didn't mean to make it sound like I wasn't giving you a real choice. You are free to turn down my offer if that's what you wish."

Instead of answering right away, Jack reached up and pulled Pitch down towards him, pressing their lips together. The warmth settled his stomach, and the look in Pitch's eyes when they pulled apart reassured him. He had his answer. "I'll watch her," he replied. He was surprised by the lack of hesitance in his own tone. "I can do it."

If Pitch was surprised, he didn't show it. "I'm glad to hear it."

As he said it, there was a knock on the door. He turned away from Jack to answer. Glancing past him, Jack could see Officer Bindi on the other side. He missed what was being said, only giving Pitch a questioning look as the General sent the Officer on his way and returned inside the room. "I just received a report that we will be descending in just under ten minutes," Pitch told him.

Jack made a face. "Isn't this the same planet where we get our supplies? Is it just a coincidence Seraphina lives there or did you plan it that way?"

"Ah, keen observation," Pitch acknowledged. He gave Jack a rather childish pat on the head, messing his hair up as he passed him to check some papers he had scattered on the table. "You're right, however. After we were attacked, I sent her and her grandparents, Onyx's mother and father, to live on Pollux. Although it's so densely populated that it may draw in the shadows at some point, they're also far more technologically advanced than many others, with a plethora of defensive mechanisms, which is why we go there to restock our supplies in the first place. Since they have an extensive array of military bases, I decided it was the best place for them to be."

"And a good excuse to see her since you have to go there anyway," Jack added.

Pitch nodded, not at all phased by Jack's subtle attempt at teasing. "She is my daughter, after all. I do miss her."

Jack's expression softened. He wrapped his arms around Pitch's middle, leaning against him from behind. "I know you do. I'm sure it'll be nice for the both of you to have her on board. It's been a while."

Touching his hand to Jack's, Pitch let out a soft sigh. "Too long."

Jack wasn't sure if he would have chosen the same path as Pitch if he were in a similar situation, if Olivia had survived and only their parents had passed away in the attack instead. Even if their mother had run off to avenge their father or something of the sort, Jack didn't think he would have made the effort to go after her, not when he still had Olivia by his side. He never would've had the reason to join the Golden Army. He would've spent his time taking care of Olivia, making sure that she would grow up with at least her brother by her side. But he supposed it still wasn't the same. Seraphina was Pitch's daughter, not his sister. She had only lost her mother that day and she still had her grandparents to live with. Pitch still had the chance to see her every so often, so it wasn't like she was totally alone or without a family.

Although he'd seen her around the _Nova_  a few times, Jack still didn't have that clear of an idea on how Seraphina acted. What came to mind was a miniature, female version of Pitch, all tight-lipped and straight posture, shooting off orders to soldiers much older and stronger than she was. He couldn't imagine trying to get along with someone like that, but then again, he'd managed to get close to Pitch when he never thought the two of them would ever trade any more than a few spare words in passing.

"Jack," Pitch called, uncoiling the hands from around his torso, "come with me to the flight deck. Since you'll be acting as Seraphina's guardian, I want you to be there when I meet her."

Pitch took a moment to make an announcement over the intercom for those who were assigned to gather the materials they needed to meet on the flight deck within the next five minutes. Most of those who were meant to take care of maintaining a proper inventory and evaluating their stock were actually not soldiers, but the civilians who worked on board, like the kitchen workers and mechanics. There were no soldiers on the kitchen staff, but there were some who doubled as mechanics, although not many. In most military groups, there were much less civilian workers, so the soldiers would take on jobs that they were suited for, but since the Golden Army was so much smaller than most, as well as a special faction, it wasn't as necessary.

In the beginning, the majority of those who signed up for it were older members who'd already been part of some other military faction, but as time went on and the shadows started not only appearing more and more often, but also growing in number, it was necessary for the Golden Army to grow as well. More people started showing interest, especially civilians like Jack and Jamie whose homes and lives were directly effected by the terror the shadows were known to spread. Anymore, it was a mix of people of all ages and experience, all fighting for the same purpose: to defeat the shadows so they could no longer do harm throughout the universe.

Once they reached the flight deck, everyone was already there and accounted for, awaiting Pitch's orders. Jack stood by his side as the General approached Irra, silent as they exchanged words. "This may be your first time handling this," Pitch began, "but I know you are capable." He didn't smile, and neither did Irra, but they passed a look between them that felt warm somehow, even from a glance, a sense of familiarity and understanding, as if they didn't need words to comprehend how the other felt. "Have you collected the individual check-lists?"

Irra turned her head towards a man with a vaguely familiar mess of blond hair. He wore the same attire as Jack, the lightly tanned casual garbs. On the shirt that fit him too loosely was the waning gibbous moon badge, showing that he was a Sergeant, like Jamie. When a name came to Jack's mind, he nodded slightly, not in acknowledgement since the other man paid him no mind whatsoever as he fumbled to pull out two folded up pieces of paper from his pants pocket, but simply out of being impressed that someone like him managed to go from Corporal to Sergeant since the last time he'd seen him.

Sergeant Spooler smoothed the papers out and handed them over to Irra, who waved him back towards the group of other mechanics. Pitch took them from her when offered and checked them over to make sure they were up to par. Once he decided they didn't need any adjustments, he returned the papers to Irra and gave her a nod to show that he was satisfied.

"Commander Overland and I have duties outside the base," Pitch informed her. "We'll be back here within the hour. I'll give you until curfew to gather the supplies we need, but if there's anything the base doesn't have on-hand, note that we won't be taking off until the day after tomorrow, at noon, so there will still be time to have whatever it is sent here."

"Understood," Irra replied.

"I'm leaving things in your hands in my absence."

Irra looked as if she wanted to smile, but there were others watching, so only her expression softened. She huffed, turning her head away from him. "I've got this under control, General. Stop stalling and go pick up your second-in-command. I'm sure she's waiting for you." She glanced towards Jack, lips quirking just slightly. "Good luck, Commander"

Jack frowned, but before he could ask what she meant by it, she'd already started shooting off instructions for the rest of the crew and Pitch was ushering him off.

It was a new experience for him. He'd never actually stepped outside on Pollux before. Most of the soldiers weren't permitted to leave the airship during those times unless they were specifically asked to. The base itself was a large area. The majority of walk-ways were out in the open, but it nearly felt suffocating by all the buildings littered around. Many were too close to each other for a child to squeeze between them. By appearance, they looked to be made of the same material as the walls and floors of the _Nova_ , only they were more of a dark silvery, iron color instead of bronze. Jack paused to knock against one, noting that it felt like a much thicker material, sturdier and stronger than anything they had in the airship. It would surely take a lot of fire-power to break any of those walls down.

On his own planet, it would have been nearing sunset, but Pollux's star was much brighter than the star that lit Jack's planet, so the days were longer and the nights were shorter. Daylight lasted somewhere around twenty hours, if he remembered correctly. He only knew so much about it because Jamie had read up on it in the guide they'd been given when they first joined, the very same that Jack had tossed in the bottom of his sock drawer and never so much as glanced at ever again.

"The sky looks weird," Jack noted, tilting his head to see. It was closer to white than it was to blue, although the tint was still there, just faintly. He had to squint to see any clouds and nearly walked into a building trying to determine if he'd actually caught sight of one. Luckily, Pitch pulled him by the arm before he could smash his face into one of the sturdy buildings, mumbling for him to be more careful.

Without bothering to look up, Pitch nodded. "Not only is Pollux's star the brightest in this Constellation, but they're so busy-bodied here that the lights in buildings and homes are rarely turned off. All that light effects the way we see the sky, making it look lighter than it actually is." He paused to give a passing soldier a nod in acknowledgement, returning to the explanation once they'd gone by. "At night, the sky is black. It's impossible to see the stars."

"They can't see the stars?" Jack awed, stunned by the very idea of it. He couldn't imagine not being able to see them. There were too many nights that he'd lain outside, leaned up against an uncomfortable tree branch with unsettled thoughts that could only be soothed by the twinkling lights up above. If the stars were not there to reassure them, what else did they have? What else was there?

As they neared the front gates, Jack expected that they would ask the guard to be let out and take a vehicle into the city to pick up Seraphina, but instead, Pitch paused a yard or two away, squinting at the gates up ahead. He was silent for a moment before clucking his tongue. "Ah, they've already arrived."

"'They'?" Jack echoed, staring at the gates to see whatever it was that Pitch must have seen, but nothing in particular stood out to him. "You mean Seraphina and her grandparents? I thought we'd have to go outside the base to get them."

Although it was subtle, Jack could tell that Pitch had picked up his pace. "They usually come here instead when they know we're going to arrive beforehand. I contacted them yesterday to inform them."

"But I thought they didn't let civilians in the base?"

As they reached the building beside the gates, Pitch's lips curved mysteriously. "They know better than that by now."

As Jack followed Pitch inside the building, he felt a slight twist of delayed anxiety that hadn't bothered to hit him until that moment. It wasn't concerning his earlier worries about whether he'd made the right choice or not, but it was over something different altogether. For the first time, he worried that Pitch's daughter wouldn't even like him. Jack always had a knack for getting along with children of all ages, even the worst of them, but there was more pressure hanging over his head with this one. Seraphina wasn't just _some_  kid; she was Pitch's _daughter_. She was the one and only child of the man he'd grown to- well, maybe not _love_ , he wasn't so sure about that yet, but definitely like, very very much. If Seraphina didn't approve, then that could easily mark the end of them.

The man in the first room rose to his feet when he saw Pitch arrive, gesturing for the two of them to follow him to another room. As they entered, Jack nervously remained one step behind Pitch, glancing around him to see the occupants of the room. There were two surprisingly young looking people, a man with hair that was only brown in just the right light, and a woman with straight, strawberry blond strands barely held together in a loose bun. While the woman's clothes seemed as average as ever, the man wore something that Jack could only describe as post-apocalyptic steampunk, complete with goggles over his eyes that...maybe acted as glasses? Jack could only hope.

There were no signs of anyone else, no wild-haired daughter anywhere to be seen. Jack squinted at the odd couple. Surely, they couldn't be Seraphina's grandparents, especially not when they looked like they were still middle-aged, barely older than Pitch. Maybe they'd gone to the wrong room.

Pitch had been surprisingly silent since they'd entered the room. The couple turned to face one another, holding their hands up in front of their mouths as they conversed. "Look at that tall-looking fellow, don't you see him there? He wears the badge of General, but surely a man with his disposition couldn't be more than Private," the man snickered. They looked as if they were trying to tell each other those things in secret, but their voices were just barely under a normal speaking level. Jack wondered if they were aware of it.

The woman held her hand to her mouth to hide a snide laugh. "At best, I would say," she added. "And have you seen the springy fellow behind him? Do you think he's mistaken this for a modeling agency?"

"He's got the looks, but certainly not the brains," the man tutted.

Jack frowned, pursing his lips and narrowing his eyes at the couple who acted as if they were off in their own world, as if they were behind some sort of sound-proof glass. What gave them the right to insult him like that?

And still, Pitch was silent. As he glanced up at him, the man seemed to be inspecting the room, his silvery eyes darting from one object to the next. He looked suspicious, like there was something off about the situation.

The man 'whispered' to the woman once again. "Of course, neither of them are very bright to have come here."

Warning bells rang in Jack's head. He suddenly felt on high-alert, his hand falling to the sword at his side as he looked for the signs of danger that had to be around. It was a trap, wasn't it? That had to be why Pitch hadn't yet said anything, probably to keep the situation from going out of control. The couple in front of them weren't Seraphina's grandparents. Seraphina obviously wasn't there at all. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

"Pitch-"

Something sharp dug into the center of Jack's back. He froze, hand hovering over his own weapon. Behind him came a strict, but confident voice. "I wouldn't consider it, if I were you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh snap, it's a cliffhanger.
> 
> //voice over  
> Jack and Pitch look to be in some real trouble here! Will Jack figure out a plan? Will someone need to come to their rescue? And just who are these people in this mysterious, whispering couple? Tune in next week to find out!


	23. Chapter 23

"We are afraid of losing what we have."

  
― _Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist_

  
\--

  
The man 'whispered' to the woman once again. "Of course, neither of them are very bright to have come here."

Warning bells rang in Jack's head. He suddenly felt on high-alert, his hand falling to the sword at his side as he looked for the signs of danger that had to be around. It was a trap, wasn't it? That had to be why Pitch hadn't yet said anything, probably to keep the situation from going out of control. The couple in front of them weren't Seraphina's grandparents. Seraphina obviously wasn't there at all. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

"Pitch-"

Something sharp dug into the center of Jack's back. He froze, hand hovering over his own weapon. Behind him came a small, but confident voice. "I wouldn't consider it, if I were you."

Suddenly, Pitch's brows rose. He turned curiously towards Jack, who was frozen where he stood, hands raised to show he wasn't looking for a fight. When Pitch met Jack's gaze, the Commander tried to silently judge the situation. To his surprise, Pitch mimicked his actions, raising his own hands, expression blank, giving no explanation as to what was going on, which only made Jack's heart beat faster, the alarms in his head to ring louder.

"What's-"

He was silenced by the sword jabbing into him a second time. "No speaking unless spoken to, captive."

Across the room, the woman chortled. "Ohoh! Look at his face! We've really got 'em now!"

There was a short pause where Jack could feel eyes on him from behind, inspecting him, probably trying to figure out his points of weakness, or if he was carrying any hidden weapons. He swallowed his nerves, attempting to run through his head the best way to handle the situation, already coming up with a plan to get him and Pitch out of there and back to the _Nova_  as soon as possible.

Behind him, the voice spoke again. "Turn and face me, captive."

Nervously, Jack did as he was instructed, expecting a plethora of dangerous, vile, villainous foes, someone threatening enough to bribe their way onto a highly restricted military base and hold captive the General of the Golden Army.

His face fell.

There before him stood a girl no taller than his chest. Not a soldier, not some assassin skilled in the ways of quick and painless deaths, not some lethal villain determined to strike him down at a moment's notice, but a little girl, no older than nine, with untamed waves of ebony hair and eyes just like her mother's. And she was holding a fencing sword to Jack's chest.

"Se-Seraphina?" he faltered, his entire state of mind needing to rewind itself. He'd been entirely prepared for some sort of attack and now he was at a loss of what to do, his pulse still trying to settle itself down.

"State your name," the girl ordered, voice level, expression as serious as death.

Jack wanted to turn to ask Pitch what to do, but he didn't think it would be the best idea to take his eyes off the one holding a sword to his flesh, even if that person happened to be a little girl. He felt like he was being judged somehow, like he was undergoing some sort of ritual that he wasn't familiar with, but had been dragged into regardless. Willing his nerves away, reminding himself it was, after all, only a little girl, Jack worked to reply. "I'm Jack, Jackson Overland, Commander in the Golden Army."

Seraphina's expression seemed to dull, her tone dropping to show she wasn't impressed. "Jack, huh?" she scoffed, narrowing her eyes on his own. "You don't look like a Jack."

"I don't?" He raised a brow. "Then what do I look like?"

"A doofus."

Jack pursed his lips, feeling petulant all of a sudden, as if he'd just come to realize that he was in the face of a tyrannical little girl and not some sort of heinous evil-doer set out to end his life in some drawn-out and terrible way. Seraphina quirked her brow, seeming to notice the subtle change in her captive's expression, how it'd so quickly gone from discombobulated anxiety to a displeased understanding of the situation.

No longer having the entertainment of tormenting her victim, she turned towards Pitch instead, her sword still raised as if he she were ready to strike at a moment's notice. Jack couldn't help but notice the way in which she held the sword, her feet in the proper stance to keep her from being knocked off balance, but also making it easy for her to move away or kick out at her enemy if she needed to. He wondered if Pitch was the one who taught her how to be adept with a sword or if it'd been someone else. He wasn't at all surprised to take note of it in any case. She was, after all, Pitch's daughter.

One set of silver eyes met with a wispy blue, both expressions set and stoic, neither Pitchiner giving way to their thoughts or emotions. Jack glanced between them, silent and surprised to find that the couple sitting towards the back of the room had gone quiet as well.

"Seraphina," Pitch properly addressed, hands still raised in his defense.

"Daddy," Seraphina replied, much too professional for someone of her age who'd just referred to her captive as _'Daddy.'_  After a moment, she dropped her hand, sheathing the sword in the scabbard at her waist that just barely managed to keep from scraping against the ground. It seemed to be raised slightly and bent back a bit to keep it from doing just that. She raised a hand, counting off her fingers. "Guilty of eighteen months. The verdict has ruled against your favor. Punishment?"

Pitch seemed to consider it for just a moment before he gave his reply. "The worst imaginable is the only acceptable kind, of course," he told her.

While Jack wondered what that might pertain to, Seraphina gave a stiff nod. "Step forward, then."

It only took one step for Pitch to get within reaching distance of his daughter. Another paused passed between them as they exchanges looks, the corners of Pitch's lips twitching upwards as if it was taking everything in him to conceal his true emotions. In one swift shifting of movement, Seraphina had her arms wrapped tightly around him. Reaching down, Pitch curled his hands under her arms and lifted her up off the ground, her legs swinging as he pulled her closer to him. The laugh that fell from his lips was something akin to lyrical in Jack's books, the most delightful sound the soldier had ever heard the man make, something so sincere and emotional that it struck Jack right in the chest, nearly bringing tears to his own eyes just by watching the event unfold.

Seraphina giggled in Pitch's arms, sounding considerably less like an age-old dictator and much more like a child of her actual age. Her previously dully-lit face brightened like the full moon against a dark sky, luminescent and gorgeous and heartwarming all the same. Pitch's smile was striking against her own, and Jack realized what he was viewing was a rare, treasured moment, something not many others got to see. It was as if he'd uncovered diamonds amongst mountains of coal, sparkling and pure. It was enough to strike something akin to hope within him. If Pitch could manage to be so unabashedly joyful after all the countless miseries he'd endured in his life, then maybe it wasn't so impossible to believe that, maybe, Jack could feel the same some day, too.

As the two parted, still stuck close together as if their hands were made of glue, Pitch turned that smiling face up towards Jack, and Jack, from the sight of it alone, thought he might just faint. He'd been so preoccupied with trying to urge his heart not to beat itself out of his chest and his cheeks not to flare up like a ripe tree of cherries that he hadn't realized he was being spoken to until a large hand smacked into his back, knocking his thoughts from their distracted state, and nearly knocking his lungs out of his body in the process.

He coughed, turning his head to meet the eyes—or rather, _goggles_ —of the man standing behind him, the woman hovering nearby. "Hope we didn't give you too much of a heart attack, boy," the man said cheerfully. He had a jaunty sort of air about him, someone who gave the impression that he smiled more often than he frowned, even in the worst of times. He reminded Jack of Dervish in a way, which, despite the earlier insults, made him feel warmer towards the man if only for the purpose of nostalgia. "Sera likes her games. It's always one thing or another with these two. You sure are a riot, though. The look on your face- I thought you'd wet your pants!"

The woman at his side laughed along with him, causing any uprising feelings of warmth to fade from Jack immediately, replaced with an entirely off-put sulking. They were like two chatty birds who liked to peck at peoples' hair and drag the wigs off elderly womens' heads for the sake of humor.

Jack let out a surprised, discomforted _"oof!"_  when the woman suddenly jabbed him right in the gut with her bony finger. "Haven't seen you around here before, though. Jack, was it? Not much meat on your bones to be a soldier." She tried to jab him again and he swiftly moved out of the way, defensively covering himself from bruising him any further. It only made her throw her head back and laugh as she nudged the man in the arm. "Kozmotis never brings anyone around here." She side-eyed the man in question. "So, what makes this one so special?"

If Jack didn't know any better, he would've said that Pitch looked almost childish in the way that he rolled his eyes. "I understand the two of you have a great need for torturing innocent souls, but I would thank you to leave my soldier out of it. He's detrimental."

"' _My_  soldier'!" the woman crowed.

"'He's _detrimental_ '," the man enthusiastically added.

Pitch cleared his throat loudly, brow twitching with a barely concealed agitation. Jack would have found it hilarious if he hadn't related to the feeling so well. "Since Seraphina will be on board the airship for much longer than usual, I've assigned Jack the duty of acting as her guardian. He's proven his trust and reliability time and time again. I don't have a single doubt that he's more than capable for the task at hand."

"Guardian?" Seraphina glowered, wrinkling her nose as she tightened her grip around her father's arm. "I don't need a guardian, especially not...," she gave Jack a displeased once-over, flicking an unimpressed wrist in his direction, " _that_."

"' _That_ '?" Jack muttered, put-off by her attitude. "What's that supposed to mean?" He narrowed his eyes at her, not at all against butting heads with a nine-year-old if need be.

She sniffed. "It means I can take care of myself. I had you shaking in your boots from the start. How is a _monkey_  supposed to watch over me?"

The man chuckled. "Ohoh! She got you on that one, boy, that she did!"

The woman pinched Jack's cheek before he could come up with a retort. "As we said before, you've certainly got the looks of a charming boy, but..."

Annoyingly, the man rapped his knuckles against Jack's head. "But it sounds pretty empty up there," he concluded.

Feeling the shortly drawn fuse begin to reach the firecrackers at the finish line, Jack shooed them away from himself, putting a hand to his head to check that a lump hadn't formed where the man had knocked against him. "Who are you two, anyway? There's no way you're Seraphina's grandparents." He wanted to make sure that there wouldn't be any serious consequences if he ended up telling them off or twisting them into a comical pretzel display. Somehow, he doubted that Pitch would mind if he went ahead with it anyway.

The couple looked at each other before returning their attention back to him. "Oh, but we are!" they said in unison. They resembled a circus act, two ridiculous clowns performing an act before an agitated audience.

"I'm Sonny," the man greeted. He took Jack's hand in his own, smiling as he shook it much too enthusiastically, causing the Commander to worry about his eyes being shaken from his skull. "And this here is Gem." He gestured to the woman, who nodded to confirm. "It's the appearance, huh? We look like two young'un's but we're actually much older."

Jack blinked, confused. Gem seemed to only have a light caking of make-up on and Sonny didn't appear to have anything at all. "I don't understand," he frowned. "What do you mean?"

Pitch gave out a long, drawn-out sigh, as if just being in the presence of the couple gave him a migraine. "I told you Pollux is highly advanced, didn't I, Jack?" Turning his gaze towards the General, Jack nodded. "They are _much_  more advanced than anything we had on your planet or its moon. Here, the elderly can use a sort of de-aging technology to make themselves appear younger. Unfortunately, it only goes as far as looks. They still age the same." He wrinkled his nose. "Like moldy cheese."

The couple turned their noses up and stuck out their tongues in response.

Jack was still trying to process what he'd just been told. Technology that could make people appear younger than they actual were? In the same sense, didn't that mean there was probably technology on the planet that could make people look completely different altogether, something that could allow them to look like someone else? If that sort of thing was possible, what else was out there? Jack had only come in contact with the very basics of technology in his life. The most advanced thing he'd ever come in contact with was the _Nova_ , which had been quite the experience after leaving his sleepy town on his quiet planet.

On his planet, they didn't have cars. His town had been small, but pleasant, a place where everyone knew each other. If anyone needed to get anywhere, they went by foot or by some basic form of a personal vehicle, like a hoverboard or something. The planet was mapped out, but it was rare for anyone to travel from one place to another, especially since most towns or villages were spread far away from one another. They had everything they needed in the land around them. There was no need to advance so quickly. Even the moon had been ahead of them by far, with the technology present to mimic the planet's atmosphere, allowing people to build small cities and grow crops and breathe the artificially oxygenated air.

It was hard for him to imagine something so immeasurably more advanced than the _Nova_  alone. "That's amazing," he breathed, eyes wide as he tried to wrap his head around it. "I didn't know things like that were capable."

Pitch's expression softened as he came to realize why Jack seemed so shocked at the concept. "Perhaps there will come a time that I'll allow you to explore a bit more of this planet."

Jack turned his owlish eyes on him, beyond excited by the very idea of it. "I would love that."

Gem squinted at Jack before turning a look towards her husband. "Oh, dear, I think we may have been mistaken with this one. Perhaps it's not that he's dim-witted. I think he's just a hick!"

Sonny snorted. "I should've known." He covered his mouth with his hand as he leaned towards Gem, once again acting as if he meant to tell her a secret without actually bothering to lower his voice. "Still think he's got a broken bulb in that head of his, though."

At Pitch's side, Seraphina huffed. "A mindless meteor-mite could make a better guardian."

Pursing his lips, Pitch frowned down at her. His ran his fingers through her mess of hair, careful not to tangle his fingers within the locks. "You'll have to get used to this. I'm sure, in time, you'll warm up to him," he assured her. As he turned his gaze to meet with Jack's, a warmth behind his eyes, there was a silent addition,  _"Just as I have done."_

Jack felt his heart swell, relieved to know that, despite Seraphina's attitude towards him, Pitch still trusted that Jack was the right person for the job.

Still, Seraphina clucked her tongue, drawing Jack's gaze from Pitch's to hers. "I suppose I could use a lackey," she jeered.

In response, Jack stuck his tongue out at her, causing Sonny and Gem to both bark with laughter, which spiraled into stomach-crumpling cackles as Seraphina returned the gesture just the same. He nearly bit his tongue when Sonny smacked him in the back a second time, shooting the apparently old man a glare.

Before the couple could say another thing, Pitch motioned for Jack to get the door. "It gets all the more enjoyable each time we meet, Sonny, Gem." He curtly nodded to each of them, removing his arm from Seraphina's grip and placing a hand on her back to lead her forward. "However, we've spent enough time chatting. I need to return to get a quote on some repairs."

Sonny blocked the way from Pitch to the door. He was still shorter, which wasn't all that surprising considering the General towered over most men and women of any age, but he still puffed out his chest, as if he were trying to size him up or take him on. When Pitch's only response was an impatient quirk of the brow, Sonny blew it all out of his mouth, chuckling under his breath as he held out his hand, beaming when the other man took it. "You're always leaping out the door," he dully noted. "I know you're in a rush and all that, being General and all." He shrugged and dropped his hand away. "I'll give you the coordinates of our new location when we reach it."

Gem beamed down at Seraphina. "You'll be alright with all this time away, won't you, dear?"

Seraphina gave her an assuring nod, not a single hint of hesitance in her composure. "It gets boring up there, but I'll be fine." She smiled. "I always get to see the stars."

"O-hoh! That's true, isn't it? There are certainly plenty of them up there, that's for sure." After giving Seraphina a comforting pat on the head, Gem turned a narrowed gaze to Pitch. The new expression shocked Jack. He didn't know either of the two kooks were capable of anything but mischievous grins. "As for you, Kozmotis, if you don't bring my granddaughter back in one piece, you'll be the one sorry for it. You swear that you're in a lull? No signs of shadow activity?"

"I swear it," Pitch earnestly replied, not missing a beat. "If there was a higher risk of danger, I wouldn't have her aboard."

She pursed her lips, looking more like the age she was meant to be, and definitely more like an authoritative figure than some clownish woman. "You won't be the one watching over her this time around. Not to mention, you won't be on land. Anything can happen up there in that wide open space." She glanced at Sonny, uncertainty lacing her gaze. "I'm having doubts, Sonny. I don't think she'll be as safe as we could hope up there."

Pitch seemed to falter as he subconsciously brushed his hand against his daughter's arm, as if merely considering the idea of not getting to spend the time with her that he thought he'd have was painful. Jack watched as Pitch opened his mouth as if to give a reply, an excuse, some sort of reassurance to back himself up and reassure the couple that Seraphina would be fine with him during her extended time on the _Nova_ , but he slowly shut himself down, quietly turning his silvery gaze onto his daughter, brushing her hair with the tips of his fingers. Any argument that came to his mind must have gone away, buried under his parental instinct to keep Seraphina's safety in mind at all costs, regardless of his own wishes. He probably thought he was being selfish wanting to have her by his side for all that time.

"I suppose-"

"Sonny, Gem," Jack spoke, stepping away from the door to address them, "I want to dispel any hesitations you might have about letting Seraphina stay on board with us." As the couple turned to give him their attention, they were startled when Jack suddenly knelt before them, head bowed. Even Pitch looked surprised by the action, blinking down at the soldier as if Jack had suddenly been replaced with another person right before his eyes. "As Seraphina's guardian, I promise to keep her safety a number one priority at all times. In the times that she's not with Pitch, I'll have an eye on her." He raised his head to look the couple in the eyes, first Sonny, then Gem. "I know to you, I'm just a stranger, but please take my word for it and reconsider. I _am_  capable."

The couple seemed utterly stunned at first, quieter than Jack ever thought they were capable of being, especially considering all they'd done since he'd met them was talk between each other. However, when the silence dragged on for a beat longer than he'd hoped for, he began to worry. Maybe he'd spoken out of turn? After all, just as he'd said, they  _didn't_  know him. They'd said loud and clear that they thought he was some sort of brainless idiot. Why would they want to trust him to be in charge of their precious granddaughter's safety?

The two shared a look with each other as Jack watched them carefully, searching anxiously for any signs of offense or disappointment.

In the next moment, the room filled with uproarious laughter as the elderly couple fell over themselves with glee. Sonny had to double over, his hands holding his sides, just to keep from falling to his hands and knees when his laughter became too much for him to handle. Gem fell against him, smacking her hand against his back as tears came to her eyes, smearing her mascara into dark smudges under her eyes.

Before them, Jack frowned, cheeks burning from embarrassment as words died on his tongue. He turned to look at Pitch, to somehow give his silent apologies for not being able to make up their minds, or for possibly making the situation worse, but he found himself caught off guard by the genuine smile on the General's lips, crinkles in the corners of his eyes. At first glance, Jack thought he might just be fighting back a bout of giggles himself, but at second glance, he could easily tell that it was warmer than that, more sincere— _thankful_  even.

Seraphina, on the other hand, had to turn her face away away from him, her shoulders shaking with the same fit of laughter her grandparents were overcome with.

"Oh, Koz!" Sonny cackled, his cheeks rosy from all the air he'd lost. "You sure know how to pick the best of them, don't you?" He turned his cheery gaze on Jack, who felt a conflicted mix of disdain and reservation. "You pulled out all the stops for this one, huh, boy? What are you, some knight?" He snickered behind his hand again, trying to gather himself as he jabbed his wife in the side to get her attention. "The boy's some kind of soldier, isn't he?"

Gem gave a delighted nod, wiping the stains of make-up from her face with a handkerchief. "I see now why Koz would allow this pretty boy the title of being Commander. That isn't given to just anyone, you know."

"Certainly not! Unlike General," Sonny smirked. "They're just giving that one away to any old fart."

Motioning for Jack to stand, Gem giggled to herself a bit more. "Oh, please dear, get to your feet. You've given me a laughing fit to last a life-time."

Jack did as she asked, still unsure of the situation as he looked from one to the other. Their words didn't quite fit with their reactions. Cautiously, he asked, "So, you trust me to watch over Seraphina?"

Their laughter faded as the couple shared another look between them. "Oh, I don't know, Sonny," Gem mused, "do we trust this one with our granddaughter?"

Sonny gave Jack a thorough once-over, bringing his hand out for the second time since their meeting. This time, he waited for Jack to take it, giving his hand a firm squeeze before letting go. His eyes were a watery blue as they met with Jack's own, iced-over ones. "Jackson, was it?" Without waiting for a confirmation, he went on. "I'll trust that you'll fulfill those duties you swore on."

"I will," Jack answered. It was a promise he intended to keep.

The smile that only left for a brief time returned full-fledged, fitting comfortably into its place over the man's lips. "Good boy."

Gem let out a tired yawn, putting her handkerchief away as she turned to address Pitch. A coy smile pulled at the corners of her cherry lips. "You've always had good taste, Kozmotis." Leaving his side, she swung open the door and made a wide gesture to grant the three access to leave. "You've all been here long enough. It's time for us to go as well."

Pitch gave them each a nod of acknowledgement. "It was nice seeing you both again." He motioned for Seraphina to walk on ahead of him, shooting Jack a curious look as he passed, one that left the Commander feeling less like snow storms and more like sunny days.

Jack was the third to leave, following closely behind Pitch so he wouldn't have to run to keep up with him. Behind him, he could hear the barely lowered voices of the couple as they cupped their hands overs their mouths and leaned in to speak to one another.

"Maybe he's got more looks than brains," Sonny 'whispered.'

"But he's certainly got more heart than anything," Gem replied.

On the walk back, Seraphina took one side of Pitch, while Jack took the other, grinning with his hands folded behind his back. When it wasn't enough to get his attention, he knocked their shoulders together, glancing mischievously away as Pitch glanced down at him, raising a curious brow. "You seem to be in higher spirits than when we went in," he noted.

"I might be," Jack hummed, scanning the area for anyone notably interesting. There weren't a lot of people out and about, though. He figured they were all inside the over-sized buildings. "Even though I made myself look like an idiot."

From the other side of the body between them came Seraphina's huffy voice. "It doesn't take much."

Jack didn't have a good enough response, clucking his tongue and looking away again. He could already tell that being her guardian was going to take a lot out of him. In the beginning, he worried she might remind him too much of Olivia, but she wasn't anything like her at all. Olivia was quick to smile, all puffy-cheeked and full of spirits. She always ended up falling for boys her age so easily, constantly sparking the protective brotherly instincts that came to Jack naturally. With Seraphina, Jack couldn't help but think that if she ever had a crush on some poor kid, she would end up taking their bloody, beating as a war trophy. Still, her resemblance to Pitch was uncanny. She still had the playful, adventurous nature most kids her age had, it was just a bit more...extreme.

Jack's attention was drawn to a space he hadn't noticed on the way to the gates. A short distance away, he could see what looked like large piles of rubble. Police tape wrapped around the mess, but it was too far back for him to get an idea on how big the area was. At first, he wondered if it was something under construction, but it wouldn't make sense, not with the bits and pieces of metal plates scattered about in piles, some charred and dented, others chipped and twisted into various shapes that they were not meant to be in. Something had obviously happened there, but he couldn't imagine anything strong enough to cause so much damage to the buildings made of such an extra sturdy material.

A hand tugging on the back of his shirt collar brought Jack back to reality, where he blinked his eyes to see that he was an inch away from smashing his nose into a building. "Whoops."

Rolling his eyes, Pitch lead Jack away from the building, careful to keep an eye on him until they finally came to a stop outside the _Nova_. There were people outside that Jack didn't recognize, wearing outfits similar to his own, only with black material outlining the edges of the lightly tanned shirt and pants. They were mixed with those he knew were workers on the airship, none of the people carrying on much conversation as they all worked away at whatever repairs they needed to do.

Before going inside, Pitch met with Irra, who stood off to the side, overlooking their activity. Placing a hand lightly against Seraphina's back, he gestured towards the Captain. "Sera, you remember Elva, don't you?"

"I do," Seraphina replied, smiling at the woman. Her eyes were drawn to the badge on her chest. "You're Captain now? I don't remember you being the Captain before."

Irra shifted, but didn't hesitate as she gave her reply. "That's true. I got a promotion quite recently, actually. It's only been a few months."

Seraphina's face twisted, her brows knit together as if she was trying to pull something from her memories. "Dervish was Captain before you." She turned her head up to address her father. "Where's Uncle Dervish?"

Jack froze behind the three of them, stiff as he looked from one person to another. How could they possibly answer a question like that? He had no idea she had a close enough relationship with Dervish that she called him "uncle," but, he supposed, the old Captain did have that way about him that made people feel like they were just part of his family. Even Jack, who'd barely spoken to him at all, had always felt a comfortable connection with the man, as if he could've talked to him easily about mostly anything.

Seraphina had already dealt with the death of her mother, and after spending so much time away from the airship, she would return to find that a man she'd obviously become attached to in some way had passed on as well.

To Jack's surprise, Pitch replied, "He's died."

The last thing Jack expected either of them to say was the truth of the matter. Of course, telling the truth may have been the _right_  thing to do, but- Well, was it? Seraphina was clearly mature for her young age, but even still, she was only nine. He wasn't quite sure what he would have done in the same situation.

For a moment, Seraphina looked sad, her voice small as she let out a soft, "Oh." But Jack found himself shocked once again as she still somehow managed to smile. "I'm sure he's in the stars."

Pitch nodded, softly running his fingers through her mess of hair. "Without a doubt."

Afterwards, he and Irra moved on to discuss the details of repairs and the supplies they managed to stock on board. The conversation of Dervish had completely passed and, while Seraphina leaned in just a bit closer to Pitch's side, she didn't seem very phased at all. She was quiet while the two adults spoke to one another, surprisingly polite despite the attitude she'd had before. Standing silently to the side, Jack watched her with a sort of fascination. He couldn't help but wonder what kind of an amazing child she truly was.

As he tuned into the conversation between Pitch and Irra, he realized they were talking about the repairs that still needed to get done within the airship. "They can't fix the pipes from the outside, so they'll have to finish tomorrow," Irra stated. "However, concerning the specific material they're made of, the base doesn't have the parts we need on hand. Someone called in an order, but there seems to be an...issue." She looked peeved, displeased with being inconvenienced.

"What's the issue?" Pitch queried, ready to handle whatever problem that needed solving.

"There's been a few issues on the base lately," Irra went on. "You may have noticed on the way here the site of destruction. Apparently, some explosive experiments went wrong and leveled the whole corner of the East side. It was lucky that we were able to get the help we have now for supplies and repairs, but _apparently_ ," her lips curled, "they can't spare a single hand more. The equipment we need to fix the pipes are in the city, but there's no one willing to retrieve them and the place that sells them doesn't do deliveries despite the fact that we're the military protecting their hides."

Pitch frowned. "That does seem to be an inconvenience." He sighed, running his fingers through his hair, careful not to throw any strands out of their proper place. "That means we need to send one of our own into the city to retrieve them. If they don't leave first thing tomorrow, we might have to delay take-off another day, two at max."

Irra gestured to Jack. "Why don't we send the Commander here? It's his fault we need the new pipes in the first place."

It was impossible to tell if she was joking or if she was sincerely annoyed that Jack ended up needing to bust the pipes in order to save all their lives. "I've never been in the city here before," he argued. "I wouldn't know where to go."

"Neither does anyone else," Irra shot back. Now it was obvious she seriously meant to send him into the city. "One of the workers here can provide you with a map of the city. We'll mark the building you need to go to and give you clear enough instructions that even you can't mess it up."

He decided to ignore that last bit for the sake of his own good will. "Would I go alone? Even with a map, I might read it wrong and get lost. Anything could happen."

"Are you making excuses, Overland?" Jack swore she nearly called him _Private_  again, only barely catching herself at the end.

"I'm not! I just don't want to mess it up."

"It's a grid system," Seraphina said, not even bothering to look up at him. Her eyes were towards the ground, where she was kicking dirt up on her shoes. "Even a monkey could get through that."

From her side, Pitch spoke up. "Why don't you go along with him?"

Both heads shot up at him. Seraphina was the first to complain. "I can't do that! I want to stay here."

"Who better to show around the city than you?" Pitch countered. "You've lived here longer than anyone. Besides, I have duties I need to tend to around here, so I wouldn't have the time to spend with you anyway. I think this will be a good opportunity for the two of you to learn to get along better."

Jack snorted. "You know, I might be better off going alone."

"Nonsense. It's been decided." Before another word could be said against it, Pitch walked over to one of the workers who was taking a brief break from the repairs. They traded a few words before the worker pulled something out of his pocket, fiddled with it a moment, and handed it over to the General, who thanked him before returning and handing the object over to Jack.

Frowning down at it, Jack tried to make sense of what it was. It was thin and flat, made of a sleek black material. The screen was made of glass and it felt so flimsy in his hands that he was afraid it would shatter to pieces if he accidentally dropped it. There was a stylus tucked in a nook in the corner that Pitch plucked out as he stood at Jack's side.

"It's a map," he explained, using the stylus to tap the screen. It zoomed in on the city until a building came in clear view on the screen. It was too tall to fit in the screen with a neon sign hooked to the front of it reading, _"Gogo Repairs!"_  in a red, digital font. "This is where you need to go." Zooming back out, Pitch drew a line with the stylus for the best route to take from the base to the shop. "That should be easy enough to follow, right?"

Studying the map, Jack gave him a nod. "Yeah, easy enough. I've got it."

"Unfortunately, we don't have a vehicle to spare for you either, not one that's suitable for two people anyway, so you and Sera will have to go on foot." Placing the stylus back into its slot, Pitch shrugged. "Most people walk in the city anyhow. With the high population, bulky vehicles are less preferred."

"How long should it take on foot, then?"

"It should take no more than four hours at the most." Giving him a knowing look, Pitch hummed expectantly. "I know this will be your first time experiencing a highly advanced world, but this isn't an excuse for sight-seeing. We need those parts as soon as possible."

Tucking the map into his pocket, Jack waved him off. "I've got it, okay? It's a straight shot. We'll leave first thing in the morning, get there, get back."

Shooting his gaze towards Seraphina, Pitch added, "Keep an eye on him."

She sighed wearily, as if the very idea of it was the most tiresome chore. "I'll do what I can."

Jack feigned offense, shooting a glare at both of them before muttering to himself about being perfectly competent enough to do any given task, and something else about a monkey, before he stomped away, off into the ship to get ready for bed before curfew.

\--

By morning, Jack was awoken by the lights coming on overhead. There was a slight heave of despair, a light weight tugging at his ankles as he pulled himself out of another painfully nostalgic dream. It faded faster than the last and wasn't as terrible as the one that came to him the morning before, but it hardly got any easier as he tried to remind himself of the responsibilities he had to carry out. As he avoided his reflection in the bathroom mirror, he forced himself to think of something positive. It would be the first time he'd actually been assigned a duty in far too long. Being able to get out there and do something productive would be a nice change in pace.

Shaking the fog from mind, he made his way up to the quarter deck. He rose his hand to give a knock on the door, but a blur of something short and covered in a rat's nest of ebony hair caught his attention from the corner of his eye. He turned to look towards the girl, not at all phased by the flimsy sword she pointed in his direction. He had no doubts that she knew how to use it, but he was pretty confident that he knew how to use his own better. Not that he was considering drawing his sword on a nine-year-old.

Leaning against the wall, he ran his fingers through his choppy mess of milky locks. "I thought we were past the whole hostage thing," he yawned, not the lead bit affected by her intimidation tactics. His attention was once again diverted by the sight of Pitch walking up behind her, a smile crossing his lips as the man came into view. "Is there anything I need to know before we're off?"

Seraphina begrudgingly lowered her sword only when Pitch stopped by her side and motioned for her to put it away. "All you need to do when you get there is present this to the man at the front desk." He handed Jack a slip of paper. It was just a small thing stating what parts they needed with the General's signature at the bottom. "He should know what to do from there. The parts are compact, so you'll be able to carry them back without an issue. I'd prefer it if you could take no more than four hours, max."

Nodding and tucking the piece of paper in his pocket, Jack pushed away from the wall and stretched his tired limbs. "Alright, we'll be leaving then."

"Do I have to go?" Seraphina whined, looking pleadingly up at her father's face.

He simply gave her a nod. "Yes. It won't take too long. You'll be grateful for it after you've been cooped up in here for a month. Enjoy your freedom of exploration while you still have it."

In the end, she gave in to her father's wishes and fell in step at Jack's side. With his past instincts kicking in, the soldier made sure to walk slower so she wouldn't start falling behind. It would be a long walk to the shop if it was going to take around two hours to get there. If she didn't have enough energy, she would probably be a blazing ball of hell on the way back. There was hardly anything worse than a whiny, bratty child, and Seraphina looked just like she'd fit that exact bill.

Leaving the base felt strange. He'd never really had the chance to explore any of the other worlds before. He was rarely chosen for recon missions in the past and the only time they'd ever actually stepped foot on another planet was to protect the people from the shadows attacking them. Although, in those scenarios, he was too busy fighting for his life and the lives of others, snuffing out shadows before they could make sleepwalkers of innocent civilians. There wasn't a whole lot of down-time to go exploring. Once clean-up was done and the shadows had moved on to somewhere else, they were all gathered back up into the Nova to carry on with their travels of space.

As they reached the base of the city, a surprisingly short walk away from the base, Jack's eyes lit up. His jaw nearly dropped to the floor with awe as the lights sparkled against his icy eyes, lighting his face with a sort of wonder and curiosity he hadn't felt in a long time. It was so much different than coming across a new cave in the woods, or some weird animal he'd never seen before. It was like stepping into a whole new world, as if he'd somehow crossed through a portal from one place to the next, but there were no shadows around and Seraphina was still walking on ahead of him, showing through her lack of enthusiasm that they were definitely in the right place.

When she realized she wasn't being followed, she clucked her tongue and spun around, tapping her foot impatiently against the ground that was such a pure shade of white cement that it nearly appeared to be glowing against the bright lights of the city around it.

"Are you coming?" she called, annoyed that he still hadn't caught up to her.

His feet moved on their own, clunky and stiff as his mind was drawn elsewhere, gaze moving from one thing to the next. There were so many things to see, from the people, to the buildings, to the cars and signs and even the sky, that he felt dizzy with the sudden overwhelming sensation of being in an entirely new environment. Everything was so _bright_. It wasn't _quite_  in a bad way, but it was close- close enough to cause him to squint his eyes and blink away the spots that appeared in front of his vision.

The buildings were taller than anything he'd ever seen before. They loomed up so high that he couldn't help but wonder if some of them, those he couldn't see the tops of, broke through the sky. There were neon lighted signs on every shop and business and everything was just as tightly shoved together as it was on the military base. There were only small cracks between most buildings, making everything feel so closed in, like they were walls closed around the city. Everything looked so neat and organized and well put-together, as if even the tiniest thing out of place would ruin the whole system.

As he placed a hand on the nearest building, it felt cool to the touch. Aside from being purposely organized to make navigation easier, everything was the same color, which was what really blew Jack away. While he was starstruck by it then, he could see himself easily growing bored with it all if he spent enough time there. It would all go from shiny and amazing to dull and bland in a matter of weeks. The roads were a sleek gray, the sidewalks a gleaming white, the buildings all the same color of chrome. The only bits of color that stood out against the bright things around them were the clothes the people wore. Most of them looked as normal as ever, which confirmed Jack's theory that Sonny wasn't quite all right in the head, even by Pollux's standards.

The people who passed them by didn't so much as glance in their direction, their eyes cast straight ahead of them, their lips tightly drawn. It felt as though there might be something off about them, but before Jack could spend any time wondering about it, something sharp jabbed him right in the gut, startling him back to reality.

Shooting Seraphina a glare, he rubbed the sore spot on his stomach, checking that she hadn't drawn any blood. "That really hurt! You shouldn't just go around stabbing people when they aren't paying attention to you."

She simply shrugged, placing the sword back in its scabbard. "I'm hungry and you weren't listening when I called your name," she huffed, tapping her own head. "It's just a city, monkey."

As she turned away, she placed her hands on her hips and surveyed the area. "I think I know where we can get breakfast."

"Breakfast?" Admittedly, the idea of grabbing a bite to eat sounded like a pretty nice idea, but he was meant to be carrying out the first duty he'd been given in a long time, not to mention enacting his first day as Seraphina's guardian. He didn't want to let Pitch down, not even for food. "We can't eat right now. We have to get the parts first. If we have enough time to spare after we get them, then I'll get us something." Pulling the map from his pocket, he hummed and tried to make sense of it. "I think we need to go-"

"But I'm hungry _now_ ," she frowned. Glancing around at those around them, her eyes narrowed mischievously. " _You_  go get the parts. _I_ _'ll_  get food. We'll meet back here later."

Before Jack could respond, she quickly walked off without waiting to see if he was following behind or not.

"Huh?" Jumping, Jack picked up the pace so he could keep up with her. "Wait, Seraphina! You can't just go off by yourself!"

The crowds knit together as tightly as the buildings were placed side-by-side. They were like molecules of water, parting just enough to let someone as small as Seraphina slip in-between them, only to crash back together before Jack could make it through. There were more people than he originally realized wandering the sides of the roads, walking the path he needed to go.

Once he lost sight of her wild mess of hair, his heart picked up pace. "Seraphina!" People complained as he shoved them out of his way to get to her, but even as he broke through the crowds and ended up on the other side of them, finding himself standing more out in the open with less people around, there was no sign of her anywhere. Wherever she'd gone, she'd gotten there quickly. "Seraphina! This isn't cool! We have to stay together!"

His feet padded lightly against the glowing pavement as he quickly strode through the individuals who didn't bother to spare a glance in his direction, not even as he called Seraphina's name and turned his head every which way, eyes wild, heart racing as he tried to catch the slightest sign of where she may have gotten off to so soon.

Hands shaking, he tried checking the map as he walked, ignoring the path drawn out by Pitch to zoom in and search nearby restaurants. Without looking where he was going, he accidentally ran right into a broad-chested man on his phone. Jack ignored his narrowed gaze as he watched the map slip from his hands and hit the floor, the screen cracking down the center on impact.

Panicking, he quickly dropped to his knees to pick it up and dust it off, but as he tried to clean off the screen, colors bled onto the map itself, leaving most of it no longer visible. "No, no, no! Come on, come on!" He tried hitting it as if that would make everything better again, but it only caused the screen to flicker until he was afraid it would turn off forever, not like it would matter much either way. Nothing on the screen was legible anymore anyway. "This can't be happening."

He rose to his feet, groaning in a fit of frustration as he pulled at his hair, spinning away from the man who'd given up paying any attention to Jack's borderline crazy display. "What am I going to do?"

Just as he was about to start his search with blind eyes, there was a scream in the distance, one that hit his ears with just the right tone to send his blood running cold.

"Seraphina."

Turning in the direction of the scream, Jack took off in a sprint, mind whirling, panic bleeding into the edges of his consciousness. All he could think about was that he needed to get to her, he needed to save her, he needed to protect her. He couldn't ruin another life, not again.

"Seraphina!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, I can feel the end coming you guys. There's only going to be another four to five chapters (in estimate) to go! Are you ready?? (I'm not!)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter either way! Thank you all for the loveliest comments and kudos!!


	24. Chapter 24

“What did a happy ending even mean in real life, anyway? In stories you simply said, ‘They lived happily ever after,’ and that was it. But in real life people had to keep on living, day after day, year after year.”

— _Scott Westerfeld, Afterworlds_

\--

“Seraphina!”

Jack’s breath escaped his lungs, startled out of him like the heart of a mouse in the face of fear, pumping panicked blood through his veins and up through his ears, swelling his head with every terrible scenario that had the possibility of happening. Even though he raced through the crowds of displeased people, the colors of their clothes blurring past his line of vision, he still felt as if his feet were moving too slowly, as if there was a heavy ball at the end of the chains invisibly wrapped around his ankles, pulling him further and further back every step of the way forward. Seraphina could be face down in a pool of her own blood by the time he reached her, she could be pale and lifeless with eyes empty of the all the soul they once held only moments before. She could be hurt, she could be damaged, she could be in desperate need of the help that was taking too long to reach her. He could be letting her down that very second.

The scream had come from a further distance than he originally imaged, the sound of it still ringing heavily in the drums of his ears. Although it had faded almost as quickly as it came, he still followed the trail of it, hoping desperately that he hadn’t taken a wrong turn somewhere along the way. He might as well have been blindfolded, traversing the city on a faded sound alone, a hunch, a hope.

There, just a short distance away, he could see a crowd. There were people circled around, gathered together to see what became of the one who’d screamed shortly before. It took every muscle in his body for Jack to get himself to slow down enough that he wouldn't bash head-first into the group, knowing that it wouldn’t do anyone any good for him to accidentally knock someone out in his attempts to push his way through to the front. Still, he carelessly pushed people to the side as he forced his way through them, stumbling forward towards the center of all the attention, all the while wondering, worrying, what horrible, mangled thing he might see on the other side.

He stopped.

There, in the street, was a woman. Her ankle twisted painfully at the wrong angle. Her hair was the color of daisies, not the dusting of coal, her eyes wide and watery and just as brown as the leaves in the fall, not blue, not like the skies above. She was older, somewhere in her mid-thirties probably.

She was not Seraphina.

“What?”

Jack stared, his brows knitting together in a mix of frustration and the cool down of the panic that’d forced its way through him. He breathed heavily so his lungs could make up for all the air they’d lost. A person brushed by his arm, kneeling down towards the woman, the one who was not at all, in any way, the little girl Jack was looking for.

The man started to ask the woman if she needed help, but Jack’s voice rose above him. “Did you scream?” When both the woman and the man, and a few faces in the crowd, gave him a curious look, he spoke again, determined and assertive. “Just now, did you scream? Was that you?”

The woman wiped some tears from her eyes and gave him a nod. “Yes, that was me.” Her lips turned downwards as she motioned limply to her twisted ankle. “I snapped my heel on the curb. I think it’s broken. It hurts, it hurts a lot.” More tears sprung to her eyes and three others pushed past Jack to get to her, kneeling to her side just as the first man had done, fussing over her as she gave them suggestions on the best way to deal with the poor, pitying situation she’d gotten herself into.

As the people in the crowd either dispersed or moved in closer to help the woman out, Jack stepped away, hands shaking so much that he felt the need to push them together in an attempt to calm them. He returned to the chalky sidewalk, only managing to make it just the few feet more to the nearest building, where he collapsed against the outside of it, sliding down the surface until he dropped completely to the ground. Ignoring any others that might be watching and wondering what might’ve gotten into this strange soldier running like a crazy person through the streets after a woman whose voice only sounded similar to a prepubescent girl’s, Jack buried his head between his knees, scrubbing his hair with his hands. He needed to pull himself together, recollect his scattered thoughts.

He was a soldier. He shouldn’t react so extremely in a panic situation. He had training that was meant to direct him to do otherwise. He’d dealt with shadows reigning terror on people, empty faces of unconscious bodies fighting the ones they loved, swords of his own allies aimed at the beating heart beneath his own chest—he could handle losing a little girl in a busy city. _She knows her way around_ , he reminded himself, hoping to lighten his spirits so that he wouldn’t drive himself into another panic. _She can handle herself._

When the air finally returned to his screaming lungs, Jack rose to his feet, feeling stiff from the way his muscles had tensed and tightened. Stretching out his arms, he scanned the portion of the city he was in, trying to backtrack the path he’d taken to get there in the hopes of finding his way back. No matter how much he thought about it, he knew it would be impossible to return on his own. He hadn’t been paying any attention to signs or landmarks in the midst of his panic.

With a drawn-out sigh, he pulled out the electronic map from his pocket, rubbing his thumb over the crack embedded in the center of the screen. There was no use for it anymore since he couldn’t see enough for it to be helpful. He could barely see the line Pitch had drawn for him so he could find his way to the part’s shop, but even that mission seemed like a fluke. He’d been there for less than half an hour and he’d already screwed up bad enough to break the map and lose the General’s daughter.

Putting the map away, Jack tried to come up with a new plan of action. Pitch said he needed those parts within the next four hours, less by then, but finding Seraphina was the number one priority. Even if he thought she could handle herself on her own in the city, he wouldn’t be able to do much without her guiding him to the shop since she knew the layout of the city better than him. She said the night before that it was a grid system, but he didn’t know the shop’s coordinates, the street name, or any of that. The people who passed him by didn’t so much as spare a glance in his direction. There weren’t any people standing around just hanging out or having a conversation with each other. Even the windows to each business were tinted so it was impossible to see what was going on inside of them.

Reaching out for a young man in a neon shirt, Jack tried to ask him if he knew where a restaurant that serves breakfast in the area might be, but before he could get any more than just a few words out, the man brushed him off and told him to leave him be before continuing on his way to wherever it was he needed to be. Jack watched after him, burning holes in the back of the man’s head. It wasn’t like he was in any sort of hurry.

The next three people Jack tried to talk to gave him the same cold shoulder the first man did. The last person even told him to mind his own business, as if he were asking her for her personal information. “What’s wrong with these people?”

Coming to the conclusion that everyone in the city had to be some sort of anti-social robots not fit for communication with a normal human being, Jack moved on of his own accord, walking down the brightly colored sidewalk with his hands in his pockets, his eyes darting from one building to the next in the hopes of seeing a sign that might give him a clue as to where Seraphina might have gotten off to. When he came across the first building with a sign that suggested it might be a restaurant, Jack didn’t hesitate to go inside, stopping only when he came to a small, strange wall that looked almost like it was made of glass, but, when he touched it, he realized it was only a hologram.

It took him a moment of studying the hologram for him to come to the realization that it was an outline of the restaurant's interior. It showed which seats were empty and which were taken, which were reserved, and had a list of the menu items on the side. He touched one out of curiosity, temporarily distracted by his pure bout of fascination with the technology he’d never come in contact with before. When his finger tapped the food item on the menu, that corner of the wall turned into something different, showing a different page describing the item with a picture of it off to the side.

“Sir, madam, etcetera, and/or otherworldly being,” a monotonous voice spoke behind him, startling Jack out of his awe. When he turned his head, he saw a short woman standing with her hip jutted, looking impatient. “This is a seat yourself restaurant. We can’t have you standing at the front because you are blocking the flow of traffic. There is a menu set at every table, so if you haven’t decided what you’d like to eat already, you can decide once you sit down.”

Jack frowned, not caring for the tone of her voice. As he looked past her to the empty clearing between her and the entrance, he wondered what kind of “flow of traffic” she was talking about when there weren’t any customers waiting at all.

Bringing his gaze back towards her, he cleared his throat, feeling like a troublesome child under her narrowed gaze. “Uh, sorry? I’m not here to eat.” He raised a hand in the air, keeping it level around the height of his chest. “I’m looking for a little girl, about this tall, carrying a sword? She’s got a whole mess of hair. You couldn’t miss her if you saw her. We got lost and I-”

“ _Sir_ , is it?”

Frowning, Jack gave a short nod. “Yeah, I’m a-”

“I am not your babysitter or the caretaker of the child you lost. My responsibilities concern maintaining the satisfaction of the customers of this restaurant, and if you’re not a customer, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” The woman stepped to the side, sweeping her arm out towards the doors in a gesture for him to leave. She gave him a snide once-over, wrinkling her nose as if the very sight of him brought a bad taste to her mouth. “I would rather not have your kind loitering around here any longer.”

“’My kind’?” he repeated, feeling offended without even understanding why. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Hearing the agitated shift in his tone of voice, the woman’s stance switched defensively. She moved her hand to a small communicator clipped onto the collar of her shirt, her eyes narrowed. “ _Sir_ , I think it’s time for you to leave.”

Jack flustered, confused and on the offensive. “What? I didn’t do anything!” When the woman’s hand moved to the button on her communicator, an obvious threat, he threw up his arms in exasperation. “Does everyone in this city hate people? Look, I’m leaving, put your stupid thing away.” He stormed past her, murmuring angrily to himself on the way out. He tried to slam the doors behind him, but they were stopped by air pressure designed to keep them from doing just that, causing them to shut disappointingly softly.

Any feelings towards the situation passed when Jack thought he saw a familiar mane of flowing black hair in the peripherals of his vision. He turned his head, seeing the lingering strands dipping between a narrow alleyway just a few yards away. His feet moved on their own, only stopping when he came to the alley in question. It was a tight squeeze, but he managed to maneuver his way down it as long as he went in sideways and scooted himself against the two buildings. When he popped out on the other side, he was surprised to see how roomy it was. There were more buildings, much smaller and more normal looking standing behind the tall sky-scrapers of the main city.

There was no time to question what they were meant for before a voice called to him from the other end of the alley. Standing yards away, stance proud, gaze challenging even from the distance between them, was Seraphina. "You're going to have to be faster than that to catch a shadow!" With those parting words, she took off down another corner, disappearing from sight.

Jack jumped, suddenly feeling more irked than worried. When Seraphina had first gone off on her own, his first thought was to try and find a way to bribe her to cooperate with him until the mission was over, but after seeing her run off with so much snark and confidence, the only thing he felt like doing anymore was catching her and putting her on a leash that she couldn't get out of so she wouldn't run away anymore. As he took off after her, he couldn't help but wonder how her grandparents ever handled her for so long on their own. He wondered how _he_  was supposed to handle her for so long on his own.

After coming within narrow reach of the girl too many times, just barely scraping the back of her shirt with the tips of his fingers before she dived down another alley that he couldn't get through nearly as quickly as she could, Jack wondered if he'd gotten himself into something that was more work than he could handle. Those concerns were forgotten when Seraphina stood high and mighty on a roof of one of the buildings in the back alleys—how she managed to get up there was beyond him—and stuck out her tongue.

She drew her sword from its sheath. "Dear doofus, it seems we've reached the end of the line." She gestured to the alley beside her, too narrow for even her to squeeze through, which meant she was trapped unless she found a way to sneak past him. Jack wasn't going to let that happen, not when he finally had a chance of catching her. "Now is the time to fight for my freedom!"

Jack let out a tired sigh, feeling more overworked than he'd been in a long time. After spending so much time being idle and not doing much of anything besides sleeping and eating, chasing after a hyped-up nine-year-old through the back alleys of an oversized city was a workout. "Seraphina, we don't have time for this. You're going to get yourself hurt up there. Just come down and help me find this place so we can get the parts and go back to the ship."

He wasn't surprised when she shook her head, maintaining her stance. "Draw your sword," she demanded. "If that's what you want so badly, you'll have to fight me for it."

"I'm not-" Jack stopped himself, glancing briefly away from her as he took a moment to assess the situation. It'd been so long since he'd played with children that he'd nearly forgotten how to act around them at all. Some part of him, deep down, locked away behind a closed door, felt hurt at the realization that he'd lost something that once used to be so much apart of himself. Sulking about it wouldn't do anything for the situation at hand, however. He had to push past it and try to find at least the very basics of how he used to handle those types of situations when dealing with a difficult kid.

"Alright," he said finally, bringing his gaze back to hers. "You want your freedom? You'll have to fight for it." He drew his sword, surprised to find a smile crossing his lips. "We'll make a deal. If _I_  win, you come with me, help me find the shop, and return home like a good, well-behaved kid. If _you_  win, we'll stop for breakfast on the way."

Seraphina didn't look impressed. "I already had breakfast."

"What? We were only apart for half an hour." Jack frowned, pursing his lips and crossing his arms. "Fine then. What's something you'd want? I could get us lunch on the way back if we have time for it."

She seemed to consider her answer, taking a moment to think of the kind of opportunity that she was being presented. Raising a curious brow, she asked, "I can have anything?"

"If you win," he confirmed.

A sly smile crossed her lips. Jack knew the moment he saw it that whatever it was that was stirring in that head of hers was only going to mean bad news for him, but he couldn't take it back. She was only a little girl, after all. Whatever she wanted couldn't be _that_  bad, could it?

"If I win," Seraphina went on, "I get one free favor, one thing that you'll have to do for me when I call upon you to do so. You'll have to do it no matter what it is with no complaints."

Countless worrisome possibilities came to mind, but Jack wasn't going to back out if it meant she would finally work with him. "Alright, it's a deal."

To his surprise, she slid down the slanted roof, leaping from its edge and landing before him with a calculated swipe of her sword. Startled, Jack just barely managed to jump out of the way of being decapitated, holding his own sword up for his own defense when Seraphina continued to come after him. He was surprised as how good she was, but she was still sloppy, her arms thin and weak. She was too concerned with getting in a hit on her opponent that she didn't think to protect herself, leaving too many spots open for Jack to strike her down if he had the right mind to. Instead of taking advantage of her weaknesses, he pretended to put up a fight, letting her strike her flimsy sword against his own, more sturdy one time and time again.

At one point, he loosened his grip on the handle of his sword, allowing it to be knocked from his hands when Seraphina struck against it another time. As it clattered to the ground, sliding across the alleyway too far away from him to reach for it, he stared with wide eyes at the younger girl standing before him. His hands flew up for his defense as he began backing away—only to trip over his own feet, hitting the ground with an _"oof!"_

As he looked up, Seraphina was standing proudly over him, the point of her sword aimed at his chest. A broad smile brightened her face. She was clearly excited that she'd managed to actually get the upper-hand against him. "Some soldier," she scoffed. "My daddy really did put a monkey in charge of me. You let yourself get beat by a little girl! How does that make you feel, doofus?"

Jack tried to resist the urge to roll his eyes as he replied. "I think it's just that you're too good for a Commander in the Golden Army." He grinned as the skies in her eyes lightened with the consideration. "You beat me, Seraphina. You've won your freedom." He laid back against the ground, shutting his eyes and draping a hand dramatically over his head. "Do what you will with me, but please! Have mercy! Make it quick! I can't stand the pain of torture!"

There was a snort above him as Seraphina drew closer. When the tip of the sword pressed lightly against the flesh of his stomach, Jack peeked his eyes open. "What? Did the great dictator of all shadows have a change of heart?"

She blew out her cheeks, pressing the sword further against his stomach, looking satisfied when he flinched from the pinch of pain. "You're so weird," she huffed, pulling her sword away and replacing it in its holder. "I'm only keeping you alive because it's what daddy would want, so don't think I'm doing you any favors." When she turned away, Jack could see her trying to hide a smile as she went to retrieve his sword. She picked it up and handed it over for him to take once he sat up and brushed himself off. "Why do you need me to help find the store? Don't you have a map?"

Jack winced as he reached in his pocket for the map, holding it out for her to see. "I kind of...dropped it. I don't know if it can be fixed, but I can't see the route your dad drew out for me."

Seraphina snorted at the sight of the cracked screen. "What a surprise that you'd mess something simple like this up, monkey." Before Jack could retort, she went on, glancing around at their surroundings. "You can still see the numbers on the bottom of the screen. If the shop's in that quadrant, then we just have to go up a few blocks and then it should be somewhere in the right part of the city."

Jack pulled himself back up to his feet, checking that he didn't have any dirt on him anywhere. The streets and walkways were surprisingly clean despite all the people walking around. "So how long should that take? Where are we now?"

"F3," Seraphina told him. "I think so, anyway. We need to get to quadrant B12. It should be an hour or more."

Sighing, Jack checked his watch. They were a little short on time, but luckily, he didn't think they were running too far behind. Pitch said the entire trip should take less than four hours, but gave him all that time to complete the mission in case there were any hold-ups or issues. As long as nothing else went wrong on the way there and back, they would probably make it to the _Nova_  just on time.

As they started making their way back to the alley they took to get back there, Jack shot a nervous glance at the girl walking beside him. "How about we just keep all of this between you and me?"

The last thing he needed was for Pitch to find out he'd let Seraphina get out of his sight within minutes of his first day as her guardian. He didn't doubt that the General would probably take the duties away from him and never trust him with another assignment ever again. There was no room for mistakes.

Seraphina hummed. "It's gonna cost you."

He wasn't surprised. "What'll it be this time? My undying servitude?"

"Not this time," she smirked. Jack knew she was going to keep that option in mind for next time. "I want lunch after we get the parts. I had to pay for my own breakfast with my own allowance."

He was almost paranoid by how easy the deal was, but since she seemed to be serious, he shrugged it off, relieved that it wasn't anything that would end up with him acting as some sort of slave or lackey. "I can do that. Thanks, Seraphina."

"Sera," she corrected. "You don't have to keep calling me Seraphina."

Blinking, Jack thought he may have felt his heart swell in his chest, just a bit, but he could have been mistaken. There was no way a demon like this child could make him feel so warm by such a simple statement. "Sera, then," he confirmed, smiling all the while.

As he squeezed himself back through the narrow alleyway he went through in the beginning, Jack spared a glance over his shoulder at the buildings tucked away in the back of it. "What were those buildings for anyway?" he queried. "They look different from all of these out here. I didn't see any signs on them. It seems a little weird that they would have buildings back somewhere people can hardly get to."

"They're homes," Seraphina replied. "Where do you think all these people live? You can either have an apartment in one of those big buildings or you can have a house. There's an easier way to get to them, too. There's a bunch of different openings that are bigger than the alleys and some of the buildings have back doors that lead to them, so workers can leave their jobs and go straight to their house nearby."

For some reason, Jack thought that seemed like an odd way of doing things. He supposed it was practical, and houses definitely sounded like a much preferable choice over an apartment where people living in the rooms around your own could make all sorts of noise and disturbance, but shoving them all in the back, out of view and out of the way, seemed a bit much. "Couldn't they just build neighborhoods? This city's big enough, isn't it?"

"It's not productive," she retorted. She glanced up at him, lips drawn in a curious line. "You really are a country hick like my grandpa said, aren't you? Cities aren't built for living. They're built for being productive. That's why there's more shops than homes, and more single people than families. The people that you see walking around aren't here to make friends or build relationships. They just want to work, work, work."

"I guess that would explain why nobody wanted to talk to me," he murmured. Hearing all of that come from someone like Seraphina struck Jack in a peculiar way. When he looked down at her, she didn't look very happy, a frown covering her lips. "Are...your grandparents like that too? They didn't seem like the types to be all about work."

She glanced at him for a moment, as if he'd asked something she hadn't expected him to, but went ahead and answered anyway. "They weren't born here, so they aren't the same." She sighed, dragging her feet enough that Jack had to slow his pace so she wouldn't fall behind. "They're all about a different kind of work, though. Grandpa builds tiny scale figures that he sells in a shop of antiques that my grandma runs. It's more popular than they expected it to be, so they're usually busy all the time."

"What do you do when they're working?" Jack couldn't help but ask.

She shrugged, her whole body sagging into the movement. "They usually let me do whatever I want. That's why I said I can take care of myself." She sent him a glare, but he could tell it was halfhearted. "I don't need some monkey watching over me."

With all the time she spent left to her own devices, it didn't surprise Jack that she was already so independent. He'd been a lot like her when he was younger, running around on his own, getting into trouble and causing problems for everyone around. His dad used to work a lot to pay the bills and his mother was busy with other things, like tending to her garden or working on some project she'd signed herself up for. Before Olivia was born, Jack didn't have his parents all to himself. They didn't coddle him or force him to stay near the home. They assumed he would be fine as long as he had his friends, but Jamie was the only one his age at the time.

With Seraphina, however, her situation wasn't entirely the same. All she'd had was her mother and father, and when her mother died, her father was too busy to take care of her anymore. She was passed on to her grandparents, who were already busy enough on their own. She went through a lot in her young age, tragedy and loneliness. He doubted she had any friends in the city to play with.

"Next time you want to play a game, just let me know, okay?" He made sure she was paying attention when he said it, smiling down at her to prove the sincerity of his words. "I know I've been a little uptight, but I know how to have fun, too. You don't need to run off on your own."

Her eyes widened for just a moment before her lips pursed in a pout, her cheeks puffing as she turned her head away from him. "We'll see," she lightly replied.

Getting to the repair shop and retrieving the parts was thankfully easy. Jack was almost surprised that the man behind the counter hadn't told him something that would make his job any more difficult than it'd already been, but it was a very simple process, just like Pitch promised it would be. After he showed the worker the note, the man grabbed the parts from the back and handed them over. The money had already been transferred over, so there was no payment necessary. Once he had what he needed, Jack bid the man a good day and he and Seraphina started on their way back to the _Nova_.

The parts came in a medium-sized box, about half the size that he was, but the objects inside were surprisingly light-weight. They barely weighed any more than a pile of clothes. He even took the chance to shake the box around to make sure he could hear the pipes rattling around inside.

Half-way to the city's entrance, Seraphina turned down a road leading in a different direction. Worried that she might be trying to take off again, Jack followed close on her heel. "Where are you-"

"Lunch," she informed him. "You said you'd buy me something on the way back." She glanced over her shoulder at him, baby blues sparking mischievously. "You wouldn't want daddy to find out that you let me run around the city all on my lonesome, would you? This was the deal."

His brow twitched. Perhaps she was a little more manipulative than he pegged her for. He would have to make a mental note to watch out for that. "Alright, we have a little time to spare. What do you want, then?"

Pointing to a building nearby, Seraphina read off the glowing neon sign nailed to the front of it. "'Astral Garden,'" she read. "It has a bunch of food from all across the galaxy. They also have some funny-looking people working there. It's hard to get a job in this city if you're not from around here, so I think Astral Garden is the nicest when they hire people from all over."

"Oh!" Jack exclaimed, suddenly coming to a realization. "That must've been what that woman was talking about earlier." When Seraphina gave him a questioning look, he explained. "After you ran off, I went into some restaurant that served breakfast looking to find you, but the woman working there was a total bi- Er, she wasn't very nice." It really had been a while since he'd been around children. He would need to watch what he said. "She said she didn't want 'my kind' loitering around." His nose wrinkled at the memory.

"It's your uniform," Seraphina concluded. "If you were a soldier from this planet, your clothes would have a black outline like the ones on the base. As far as these people can tell, you're a foreigner, and nobody cares for those."

Jack wasn't sure he quite understood _why_  being a foreigner was such a bad thing, but he doubted Seraphina would know much more about it either, so he didn't say anything more about it. When he first arrived in the city, he felt star-struck, hit with a strong feeling of awe for someplace so far beyond anything he'd ever encountered before, but all he wanted to do anymore was return to the familiarity of the airship, where people actually bothered glancing in his direction. He didn't understand how a place so full of people could be so lonely. Didn't any of them care about anything other than being productive? How could a life feel fulfilling without building relationships with other people? If they shut out every stranger they came in contact with, they would always be closed up in their own little individual worlds, never learning anything that others could teach them. It didn't seem very productive at all.

As they entered Astral Garden, Jack was surprised by the change in atmosphere right as they arrived. The inside was filled with quiet chatter amongst those sitting at the tables, people happily interacting as they ate their meals. There was such a variety of people that Jack had a hard time taking them all in at once, his eyes falling from one alien to the next, fascinated by the differences between them all.

The one who greeted them at the entrance caught Jack's attention by the shadow they cast over his form, towering over his head. Jack had to look up just to meet their gaze, and when he did, he nearly regretted it when he saw them scowling down at him.

They were a seven-foot-tall creature that looked hardly any different than one of the multitude of adorable bunnies that Jack had roaming around his own planet, only this one had more of a human physique, standing on their two big feet, with their two long ears draped back out of the way of their face. Imprinted in the bluish gray of their fur were intriguing markings that Jack must have been staring at for too long because the creature had to clear their throat loudly, leering down at him with an expression that could kill.

"May I take you to your seat, sir?" the creature grunted. Its voice wasn't as deep as Jack was expecting, but still sounded masculine. What really threw him off, however, was the accent. It wasn't anything he'd ever heard before.

He felt shivers run down his spine just by the look of the thing, torn between wanting to call them cute and wanting to call them deadly. They looked more like a warrior than a waiter. "Ye-yeah, yeah, a seat. We'll take a seat, just me and her." He gestured to Seraphina, who was standing at his side looking as neutral as ever.

When the creature's eyes landed on her, their expression lightened considerably, their spring green eyes filling with a warmth that Jack didn't know a scary thing like that could possess. "Why hello there, ya little ankle biter! Good to see ya again! I'll put a toy in with your meal, yeah?"

Seraphina smiled. "Make it good."

"Oh, you know I will, sheila."

The large, bunny-esque creature lead the two of them to their seat, soon after taking their order. There were so many things on the menu that Jack had never heard of before that he ended up choosing the same thing Seraphina picked. Luckily, it sounded familiar, so he didn't think he wouldn't like it.

"Do they know you?" he asked once the creature went away. He was almost surprised to see them walk off instead of hop towards the kitchen. Then again, with paws as big as those, he was sure that if the creature started hopping around, they would rattle the whole building.

Seraphina nodded. "This is my favorite place to eat when I get my allowance. They let me eat on my own without bugging me about where my guardians are."

"Oh." He paused, trying to pick his words carefully. "So, that thing-"

" _He_ ," Seraphina corrected, shooting him a glare. "He gave us his name; weren't you listening? It's Lachlan."

Jack shrank back in his seat a little. "I was a little too focused on seeing if he had a tail." To his delight, the overgrown rabbit did, indeed, have a cute little fluffy tail.

"He told me once that he's from a rare breed called Pooka," she went on to explain. "I don't know anything else about them, but I guess all his people look like he does, like big bunnies. He didn't even tell me where they're from. He's the first and only one I've ever seen."

"Me too." Jack had a hard, but enjoyable, time trying to imagine an entire race of people that looked like anthro rabbits, all walking about together like it was a completely normal thing. He wondered if they were all as intimidating as Lachlan, or if there were others who were actually as cute as the real thing. He was almost tempted to order carrots as a side dish just to see how his waiter reacted to them, but resisted the urge. Just barely.

The food they had was surprisingly good and when they left, Jack made sure to dish out a bit extra for the tip because Lachlan caught him staring at his tail and looked ready to beat him into a new state of consciousness.

On the way back to the _Nova_ , he was pleased by the conversation he was able to hold with Seraphina. She was surprisingly talkative once he got her to open up to him a bit more. He couldn't help but think she only had so much to say because she hadn't had anyone to talk to in so long.

She was half asleep by the time they finally reached the large airship stationed in the back of the military base. He kept having to pat her on the shoulder or kick her in the backs of her shoes to keep her going, the latter of which always made her stumble froward, tripping over her own feet. It was funny until she ended up kicking him in the shin the third time he tried it. Jack decided that it would be in his best interests not to continue doing it if he didn't want to end up battered and bruised before they even got there.

Irra was standing outside just like the night before, her back straight and eyes narrowed as she monitored the work and productivity of the workers. Everyone seemed to be fulfilling their duties without complaint. Since most of them weren't actual soldiers, the only orders Irra could give them was as their boss, not as their superior in command. She couldn't just go around demanding that they do things, but they knew what they were doing. They rarely picked up any new people that signed on to just be regular civilian workers, especially not in the Golden Army.

When her gaze found Jack walking up, she met him part-way, reaching for the parts before anything else. "If you were any later, it would have been an inconvenience," she carped. It was hard to tell if she was praising him or complaining. "Since we're leaving so soon, we need to get to work on that room as soon as possible."

"You're _welcome_ ," Jack murmured, not at all surprised by the Captain's overly efficient and stoic attitude. It was just as usual, anyway. She'd hardly changed at all since the two of them were raised in ranks. It was almost disappointing that he never got the chance to stand as her equal when she was a Commander. He could only wonder if she would have acted any nicer towards him, but somehow, he doubted it. The only person she was even the slightest bit sweet around was Pitch.

Deaf to Jack's complaints, Irra went off to bark an order to one of the soldiers working as a mechanic. Sergeant Spooler arrived at her side, taking the box of parts and nodding at her directions to round up a third of those working on the outside to finish the repairs inside the ship. Jack was surprised to see how efficient Spooler was in carrying out the duties he was given. He always seemed so nervous and jittery all the time, as if he were constantly hyped up on caffeine, but he managed to do what he was asked to, disappearing inside the airship with a group following close behind.

Once she'd assured that it was taken care of, Irra turned her attention back on Jack. "The two of you seem to be getting along better," she noted, pointing to Seraphina, who was leaning with her back against Jack's side. "General Pitchiner is in his office. You should report back in to him before doing anything else."

"Right," Jack confirmed. He adjusted to alert Seraphina that he was about to move and waited for her to pull herself back into a proper standing position before ushering her along with him.

There were more people wandering about the corridors than usual, but that was normal for the times that they were stationed on a planet. Since they weren't traveling throughout space, there wasn't any need for people to monitor the stars for any signs of activity. Nobody needed to direct the ship or handle its controls since it wasn't going anywhere. The only people who were really still on duty were the Lieutenants listening in for any incoming messages, which weren't very common anyway.

Some people greeted the two of them as they made their way up to the quarter deck, but not many. There seemed to be a more nervous atmosphere when it came to speaking to the General's daughter. She was almost like royalty amongst the soldiers. Everyone, even the older ones, were usually too concerned that they might do something to upset her and have the General on their asses that they rarely bothered acknowledging her at all. Jack supposed he could understand. If he hadn't felt so close to Pitch, he probably would've been a little high-strung about interacting with Seraphina, too. Even if Pitch hadn't been his superior, he could be scary enough on his own.

Before they could take the stairs from the second level to the first, someone called Jack's name, drawing his attention. As he turned his head to see who it was, he found Millie striding towards him, looking hurried and a little out of breath. As she stopped before him, he could tell she had a nervous, skittish look in her eyes, emotions that were only barely concealed by her straight and narrow composure and her tightly drawn lips.

"Jé?" Jack queried, concern furrowing his brows. He felt Seraphina sigh impatiently at his side and silently motioned for her to wait for him. "You don't look so good."

Millie took a moment to catch her breath, pinching the bridge of her nose in an attempt to recollect her bearings. "I'm fine. I'm- I mean. It's probably nothing. I don't even know why I- Oh." She blinked down at Seraphina, as if only just seeing her. "Oh, so she's on board. I never even took notice. I've been searching for you for the last hour now, but I haven't been able to find you. Why are you always so hard to reach?"

He rolled his eyes. "I was sent into the city on an assignment. Sera and I just got back a couple of minutes ago. I still haven't reported to Pitch, yet." She still seemed unsettled, so he was compelled to continue. "What do you mean 'it's probably nothing'? What'd you need me for?"

She bit her lip, hesitating once she discovered that he wasn't alone. "Maybe right now isn't the best time to talk about it. When you're finished talking to the General and have a moment to yourself without his daughter, come talk to me, yeah?" She went to turn away, but paused, sighing a second time. "Look, it's probably nothing in reality, so don't get all nervous or rush to come talk to me, okay? Just, whenever you get the chance. No big deal."

"Uh, yeah," he faltered, confused and a little on-edge for reasons he didn't know why. "I'll catch you later, then."

She gave him a nod, shooting Seraphina a small wave of acknowledgement, before turning and pacing away. She seemed fine just the day before and, as far as Jack could tell, nothing substantial had happened between the last time they talked to each other and that moment then.

"She's weird," Seraphina yawned, walking ahead of Jack towards the next level. "Is she always like that?"

"Not usually," he admitted, feeling a tug of nerves just beneath the surface. He tried to brush them off as he followed her up the stairs and reached the door to Pitch's office.

He didn't have to wait too long after knocking for Pitch to appear in the doorway, looking pleased to see them. "Welcome back, you two," he greeted, moving aside so they could enter the room. "I assume everything went accordingly?" His gaze fell to Jack. "Did you have any troubles navigating the city?"

Jack shared a look with Seraphina. Her lips curled into a malicious grin, causing his eyes to narrow warily, silently pleading that she would remember to keep their deal. He couldn't imagine what Pitch's reaction might be if he ever found out that he'd lost his daughter in a bustling city all by herself.

When Seraphina seemed to make the decision to keep quiet, Jack recalled another thing. "Ah, yeah, it was pretty easy to find, but..." He frowned, pulling the scuffed-up remains of the electronic map from his pocket. When he saw the nasty crack down the center of the screen, he winced, tentatively holding it out for Pitch to see. "I kind of...dropped this thing."

Pitch clucked his tongue. "That wasn't one of ours. That belonged to a solider on this base. I was only intending on borrowing it until your return."

"Sorry," Jack apologized, shifting awkwardly. He didn't think it was that big of a deal that he broke it, but he was disappointed that he still managed to screw something up on the first duty he'd been assigned to in months. "Can it be fixed or anything? I can pay for the damages."

Pitch shook his head. "No need. It's not a real issue. These things are expendable." He took the map from Jack's hands and pursed his lips in distaste as he turned it from one side to another. "These devices are so thin and flimsy; you would think that a planet with the ability to create such incredible technology would come up with a better design than a piece of scrap metal with a glass screen, of all things." He shrugged, placing it on the table next to a pile of papers to deal with later.

Relieved, Jack gestured to Seraphina. "It was a long walk there and back and we stopped for lunch on the way, so I think she's ready for a nap." He nudged her with his arm. "Right?"

She waved a hand lazily in his general direction. "I'm fine. I can make it another few hours." A yawn that escaped her said otherwise.

Pitch smiled warmly at the two of them, running his fingers through Seraphina's hair as he stepped up to her side. "Go on to my quarters. I'll wake you in time for dinner." Once he placed his hand on her back, she decided to go along with his suggestion without any more complaints, leaving the two of them alone as she went off to take her nap.

Once she was gone, Pitch turned towards Jack, his expression lighter than the Commander had ever seen it before. "Thank you for today," he said. He cupped Jack's cheeks in each of his hands, tilting his head down to place a kiss in the center of his forehead, and then to the side so he could place one on his temple, before finally allowing him to lift his head up to fix one upon his lips. "I had no hesitations that I'd made the right decision."

Jack grinned, gripping the fabric of Pitch's casual garb, lightly bunching it between his fingers. "Aren't you always such a know-it-all." His grip tightened as he pulled the man closer towards him, letting him fall against his lips. They felt attuned to each other by then. It wasn't that their mouths were made for one another, but that they'd formed a perfect mold over time.

Jack's heart raced as it did every time he and Pitch were so close together, and he couldn't help but raise his free hand to feel for the beat within the General's own chest as they continued to press their bodies against each other, moving to be as close as two people possibly could with clothes still between them. There was a comfort in knowing that the beating heart he felt beneath the palm of his hand was not his own despite how closely it compared. He was never a romantic type, never one to look up at the stars and wonder if there was someone, somewhere out there for him with the same spots of light reflecting in their own eyes. He didn't believe in things like soul mates or destiny. People made their own ways in life. It wasn't fair to believe that some people were simply _made_  for one another, not when there were so many possibilities. There was undoubtedly a time that Pitch truly believed with all his heart that he and Lady Onyx would be together forever, that they were meant to be; and with Jack, too, at some point wondered if he and Jamie were the ones who were going to end up together until the days they died. But that was not the case. It wasn't meant to be.

And maybe, as it proved then in that very moment, with Pitch's lips pressed against his own and their hearts beating to the same silent rhythm, it was better that way.

As they parted to catch their breaths, Jack was enamored by the lack of stars in Pitch's eyes. He would much rather have the chance he did in that moment, to see without the clutter they would have brought otherwise. He much preferred the sight of sterling silver than that of the flickering lights from above.

"I-"

_I love you._

Those were the words that stuck to his tongue, the words that caught in his throat as he tried too suddenly to swallow them down. Jack's eyes widened as his voice died against the warmth that spilled between them. His heart beat quickly for an entirely different reason; his hand dropped from Pitch's chest.

"Jack?" Pitch looked worried, as if he'd seen the visible draining of blood as it left Jack's face.

Despite his personal wishes to draw Pitch back in, to do what should have been so easily done, Jack pulled back. He unraveled himself from the General's arms and took a step back, as if he needed more room to believe that he'd nearly just said what he thought he'd just said.

His gaze flickered to Pitch's for just a moment. The words returned. He looked away.

"I need to go," Jack suddenly said. Even he thought it sounded weak. "I nearly forgot, someone said they needed to talk to me. It sounded pretty urgent, so I should go check it out just in case." It didn't sound honest, but honesty was just the thing he was trying to avoid.

Pitch's expression showed that he was both displeased and disbelieving, but he had no room to say anything against it. He looked just as thrown off as Jack felt. "Are you sure?" The hint in his tone that silently showed that he still would have very much preferred it if Jack stayed didn't go unnoticed.

Still, Jack stood his ground. "I'm sure. I'm sure." He was already backing towards the door as he spoke. "I'll see you later. Let me know when Sera's up from her nap." The only sign of a good-bye he gave was a quick, rigid wave before he turned away and hurried out of the office.

As he put distance between him and the room that held the man whose arms he'd just been in, Jack's cheeks flared, his mind whirled. The words, those very same, were swallowed until they sat like a stone in the pit of his stomach. His lips were sewn shut. And the decision had been made- They were not to be said any time soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohh man. I'm writing this frosty idiot and even I want to shake him up and throw him back in that office. I mean come oooooon, Jack! We're so close!!
> 
> Thank you all for your comments and kudos!!


	25. Chapter 25

“There is no recipe for happiness. No amount of kisses, farmer markets, cups of tea, or core-shaking laughs will fix you. You have to save yourself. You have to fight for that peace.”

— _Michelle K., Recipe for Happiness_

\--

“Jack!”

Before Jack could even reach the level his cabin was on, someone reached out from the edges of his peripheral vision, grabbed him by the arm, and pulled him inside a room. With the memories of nightmares long past, but not at all long forgotten, he couldn’t help but give a jolt, the muscles in his body tensing until the hand around his arm fell away. His breath drew out of him in a loud, heavy sigh of relief when his gaze cast over the face of Millie, and not a ghastly woman with gray skin. She stood almost awkwardly to the side, hesitant and unsure of how to deal with the reaction she had obviously not been expecting out of him.

Once his initial shock had passed, embarrassment seeped forth to replace the feeling. Letting out another sigh, Jack brushed his bangs out of his eyes and took a brief moment to subtly recompose himself, allowing the voice in the back of his head to once again remind him that he was, indeed, a soldier, and that having such an adverse reaction to the littlest of things was not the proper way for a soldier, especially one of his caliber, to act. The voice continued on with the lingering affirmations that he’d taken care of the shadows’ danger over a month ago and that worrying about them popping up in every corner was just him being ridiculous and paranoid, which wasn’t going to move him forward where he eventually needed to be. It was only going to drag him back, lead him further into the deep, dark, dank thresholds he had worked so hard to move away from.

When the voice sounded again, he did not startle. “Jack?”

Turning his gaze up to meet with Millie’s, Jack moved his hand away from his head and waved it in the air between them to show that he was fine, that he was perfectly composed and that there was nothing for her to be worried about. It would only make things worse if she tried to pry, but, to his luck, it wasn’t her way to do so. Her lips drew thin, but her eyes showed that she understood what he was trying to get across, so she withdrew any comments of concern, straightened her back, and got down to business.

“I saw you weren’t with Seraphina, so I figured I’d try to grab you while you had the time,” she explained, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. It was the only true sign she had that gave way to the deep discomfort that must have been brewing within her. “I wasn’t sure when I’d get another chance, so I just grabbed you. Do you have the time?”

Seeing that her mood had only slightly changed (which was probably only because she was trying to make it seem that way), the fluttery, light-hearted nerves that’d grown from what had just happened, or nearly happened, with Pitch began to damper and drag, becoming more ragged and fueled with legitimate worry.

“Yeah,” he replied, becoming acutely attuned to her jittery mood. “I was looking for you, actually. You said you needed to talk to me, right? So what’s this about?”

“It’s Cas.”

 _Of course_. Jack only barely resisted smacking his hand against his forehead for not calling it sooner.  _Of course_  it was going to be something that had to do with Cas. Since when did Millie ever come to him about anything else? It wouldn’t be about her relationship with Irra, or about D’gell pissing her off, or needing an excuse to get Grant off her heels for a day, or even just to ask him how his day’s going. He should have known from the moment he saw how high-strung she was that, whatever it was that was bothering her, it had to do with the very same person that had caused him so many problems in the past. He could only wonder what issues that dredge would try stirring up. After all, it must be quite boring in captivity. What else would he have to do than think of even more ways to ruin Jack’s life?

“Cas,” he deadpanned, suddenly less interested.

She easily read his tone. “Yes, _Cas_.” She groaned, turning away for a moment as if she couldn’t bear to face him. “I know! I know. I don’t need that from you, Jack. I’ve already given myself shit over it in my head. Just,” she sighed, turning back around, “just hear me out. Okay? That’s all I’m asking.”

He didn’t want to. If past incidents were anything to go by, he knew that it would be in his best interests to turn tail and leave right then and there without hearing another word about it, without bothering to get himself involved in whatever unnecessary amount of turmoil Cas was trying to somehow drag him into another time around. However, he knew it would eat away at him if he didn’t at least hear what she had to say. She seemed so tightly wound by whatever it was her brother had said or done that ignoring her seemed like even worse of an idea.

So, with a long, drawn-out sigh, Jack leaned himself against the wall and motioned for her to continue. “Alright,” he gave in, not bothering to hide his lack of enthusiasm in doing so. “What is it this time?”

She sighed along with him—hers more ragged and tired. Jack wished he could consider her weak for still sticking by the side of an obviously monstrous man, but to her, Cas wasn’t like that at all. In her eyes, all she could see was her brother, and that was something Jack could understand.

“It’s probably nothing,” she started. “In fact, I’m almost _sure_  it was just something he said to get a rise out of me, or you, or both of us, some stupid last-chance act at revenge, but- well, I guess it worked. For me, anyway.” Again, she sighed, taking a moment to collect her thoughts before she carried on with her rambling. “I saw him last night before going to bed. I usually give him a visit once a day just to see how he’s doing, even though he never acts like he’s happy to see me. I can understand, I guess. I did kind of go against him. I don’t regret my actions, but sometimes…”  
Again, she paused to recollect herself. Jack was patient, remaining calm and silent while she worked to get out the necessary information. It wasn’t like her to be so muddled and discombobulated, so whatever Cas had said must have really gotten to her, which made Jack all the more curious to find out what it was.

Deciding that she was good to continue, Millie cleared her throat and carried on. “He gave me a warning. He told me that there’s only so much time for me to leave the ship before the ‘festivities’ begin.” Her expression was grim, only furthering the proof of her worries. “At first, I thought it was just his way of trying to convince me to sneak him off the ship so he wouldn’t have to deal with the humiliation of being kicked off on our home planet, but he never once asked me to take him with me. He never even acted like he wanted to leave.”

“It sounds like a joke to me,” Jack snorted. Deep down, he didn’t truly believe that. His stomach churned with unease. A line as cheesy as “festivities” certainly sounded like Cas, but what was that even supposed to mean? “Did he say anything else?”

Millie shook her head, shoulders sunk. “No, that was all. When I tried to demand an explanation, he just turned away and pretended not to hear me. I’m not allowed to go in the cell or I would’ve beat the answer out of him.” She was practically snarling. Jack didn’t once believe she wouldn’t do it, either. “Maybe you’re right,” she went on. “Maybe it is just some joke. It could’ve just been some pathetic last attempt to poke at our nerves, but it’s been bugging me.”

“If you’re so worried about it, why are you telling me?” Jack asked, crossing his arms over one another. “Why not tell the Captain about it? She could do more about it than me and you’re closer to her, anyway.”

She gave a heavy shrug in response. “Elva would’ve made a big thing out of it, ran a scan of the entire ship, put us all on lock-down, and since she’s so busy already, I didn’t want to give her more work to do. With General Pitchiner’s daughter on board, I’m sure you can understand.”

“I guess,” he replied, still unsure about everything he’d been told.

“Besides, when it comes to matters with Cas, I’ve always gone to you in the past.” She leaned against her bedpost, tilting her head back to tap it against the metal frame. “Look, I’m not expecting you to do anything about it. Even if it is something, neither of us have any clue what it could be, so there’s nothing to be done about it in the first place. As far as we know, this is just him trying to get in our heads. He probably doesn’t even care about my feelings about it. I bet he knew I’d come running to you, hoping that I could get him in your head, too. You’re the only one he cares about anymore.”

Hearing that gave Jack an uncomfortable sensation in the pit of his stomach, something akin to a sickness that had either just recently passed, or was about to arrive. He had enough things to worry about with Seraphina on board the _Nova_. The last thing he needed messing him up was some imaginary ruse brought on by Cas’s idiotic attempts to ruin him.

It was nothing.

It was _probably_  nothing.

“You’re right,” he said after a moment of silence, nearly startling Millie from her thoughts. “Even if it does turn out to be something, without knowing what it is, there’s nothing we can do about it. If you think it’s something we should be worried about, try getting some more information out of Cas. If he tells you anything that might be important, come to me and we’ll go from there.” He suddenly thought he would’ve been better off leaving when he originally wanted to, that it would have been a smarter idea to turn Millie down and tell her to keep him out of it. Anything to do with Cas, no matter how big or small, always, _always_  turned out to be bad news for Jack. “Before we leave the planet, Pitch always runs a full scan of the ship to make sure everything that needed to be fixed is running properly. If there are any anomalies, it’ll come up. He’ll be the first to know about it.”

That seemed to satisfy Millie’s nerves, at least enough for her tense state to soften. “Yeah,” she nodded. “Yeah, that’s right. If there’s a problem, the General will have it resolved. That’s only a couple of days from now.” She seemed reassured by Jack’s words, allowing herself to relax for the first time since he’d seen her that day. He doubted she’d gotten much sleep, if the dark smudges under her eyes were anything to go by. “If anything comes up, you’ll be the first to know.”

Again, Jack wanted to tell her not to bother, that he had no desire to get dragged into another of Cas’s little revenge plots, but instead, he only gave her a nod of the head. “Right.” If anything were to come up, he wanted to be the first to know.

\--

Jack was tense over the next couple of days, jumping at every sudden voice or tap on the arm, looking twice over his shoulder whenever he found himself alone in a corridor, paranoid that any turn around a corner would have him running right back into the nightmarish fiends he thought he'd gotten rid of. He knew better than to have ever let his guard down entirely because there had never been any actual guarantee that the shadows were gone forever. As far as he knew, his actions against their vessel had only weakened them. While he didn't exactly know how the shadows worked, he doubted killing the physical form they'd taken over would have actually destroyed them, too. He'd always been waiting for their return.

Only, nothing happened. Millie never reported anything back to him. Jack was mostly kept busy with entertaining Seraphina, who preferred wandering around and exploring the base while she still could, but whenever he met with Millie's gaze from across the mess hall, she would only give a halfhearted shrug, silently informing him that nothing was coming out of her visits with her treacherous brother. In the end, whatever warnings Cas tried to give seemed to come out as nothing more than an empty threat. When Pitch ran a full scan of the _Nova_ , everything came up as crystal clear, with not a single anomaly to report. Everyone was accounted for, all repairs had been made, and with no further concerns, they lifted off from the planet to continue their spatial explorations.

It wasn't until after the scan came up clear that Jack could once again breathe a sigh of relief. While he and Millie still hadn't had a chance to speak to one another, when he caught her eye two days after leaving Pollux, the two of them traded a thumbs-up before parting ways. Everything seemed to be going just as it had before, only, dare he say, just a bit... _better_. Honestly, Jack couldn't remember a time he'd been kept so busy, but regardless of the slight ache in his back from hauling a nine-year-old around on his shoulders, and regardless of the tired heap he fell into every night after reading her stories for hours on end, he couldn't wipe that smile from his face. Each day, he thought he could see it growing in the mirror. It was a satisfying sensation.

Flopping back against the couch in Pitch's office, Jack startled at the sound of a little girl giggling. With a roll of the eyes, he pulled out the doll lodged in the couch cushion behind him and held it up, lazily pressing his thumbs against its stomach to make it laugh again. The second time around, a chill rolled up his spine and back down again, reminding him of an event he would much rather forget.

Seraphina's face popped into view as she leaned over the arm of the couch. "Why do you have that?" She wrinkled her nose and jabbed a finger at the curly-haired doll as if the mere sight of it offended her. "She's so old."

"Your dad keeps it around," Jack explained, quirking a brow up at her and moving his hands so he wouldn't accidentally trigger the doll's laughter again. "I think he forgot it was in here, though. This thing's a hero."

"A hero?" She yawned, walking around and settling herself down atop his outstretched legs. "How is that ratty thing anything but garbage? I haven't played with it since I was six."

He tossed the doll into the air like a ball, catching it and tossing it again. "Didn't I tell you about the time the shadows infiltrated the ship about a year ago?"

"You told me all about how _you_  saved the day," she drawled, not sounding the least bit impressed. "I don't remember anything about the doll."

As he recalled the story he told her one night, Jack realized he may have skimped on some particular details in order to make himself out to be more amazing than he'd actually been at the time. But that was besides the point. "Forget it." She didn't need to know what _really_  happened, anyway. He was perfectly fine with her continuing to think that he'd actually ran through all twelve levels of the _Nova_  with no weapon, only a pot and a wooden spoon, banging the two of them together as he gathered the shadows on his heels all the way up into the room of the conning tower. That sounded much more thrilling, anyway. "Lunch is in less than an hour. I wanted to take a nap first."

Her eyes narrowed in on his own. "Then why are you in daddy's office and not in your own room?"

 _Perceptive_. Averting his gaze, he gave the floor a nervous grin. He should've known better that she would've realized he was only there in the hopes of catching Pitch before the General ran off for some other duties. "That's not important." Sitting up, he tossed the doll back in the spot where he'd found it, grimacing as it landed on its stomach and let out that ghoulish giggle. "What _is_  important, is that we find you something to do. Right?"

The grin she gave him was borderline malevolent, but honestly, he was starting to get used to it. "You're learning, monkey." She hopped onto her feet, brushing her hair back over her shoulder. "Let's go explore the kingdom. I wish to see my subjects."

He tried to resist rolling his eyes, only because he knew it would earn him a kick in the shin, so he made the effort to push his legs lazily over the edge of the couch. "Alright. What method of transportation?"

"I can walk fine on my own."

"Right."

The two of them left the office, Seraphina trailing a few feet ahead as she preferred to do whenever she was with Jack. When she was with her father, she was always at his side, stuck there like glue as if she were afraid if she happened to step a single inch away from him, he would fall away from her reach again. Jack didn't think much about it, though, since he supposed the attachment was only natural after all she'd gone through.

The two of them had been cooped up in the airship together for just over two months. It was unbelievable to Jack that he'd once thought the _Nova_  was incredibly huge and spacious, when all he could think about anymore was how small and cramped it was when he had an overly adventurous, constantly energized nine-year-old on his hands. In the beginning, things between them were a little stiff. She would snap at him whenever he'd stand too close and he would feel a slight pinch of panic whenever she'd turn a corner out of sight, but she eventually stopped complaining that he was suffocating her and he eventually realized that she would always be there when he reached the same corner.

She often had stories to tell him. While in the beginning she'd been quiet, almost purposely so, as if speaking too much would be the equivalent to admitting that she cared for his company, when she loosened up, she had all sorts of things to say. She often went on about the adventures she had while her grandparents were busy, undoubtedly exaggerating a few of the details, like the time she got herself cornered by twelve armed men and defeated them all at once with her bare hands alone. There were other times, whenever she started growing bored, that she would spontaneously jab him with the fencing sword she constantly kept on her person. After she'd jab him, she would come up with some sort of theatrical scenario that she expected Jack to go along with, no questions asked, and he always would, wholeheartedly, chasing her through the corridors and falling dramatically to his knees in front of whatever audience they may have accumulated. He didn't have a care in the world who on that airship saw him fall "dead" by the sword of a little girl, so long as he could see the way Seraphina's face lit up each and every time.

Sometimes, it was harder. Sometimes, he would watch her sleeping face, having stopped mid-sentence in the midst of a story he'd been making up on the spot to soothe her to slumber, and in that peaceful face of hers, he would see someone else. He would see another little girl, not with a wild mane of black hair, but with a long crop of autumn brown, with the lightest smattering of freckles past the pale of her skin. Half the time, whenever he would go in to wake Seraphina up for the day, he almost expected caramel eyes to stare up at him, but of course, it was always the same pastel blues. They would be blue every time, not brown; they would never be brown again.

In those times, it took a little more for him to find his spirits to play with her again. Seraphina rarely seemed to mind, simply dragging him around with her and going easy on him until he appeared to cheer himself up. If she ever noticed that there was something bothering him, she never once asked about it. Maybe she thought it was for the best that she didn't, or maybe she simply didn't care. Either way, Jack was relieved that she hadn't brought it up.

Somewhere down on the fifth level, Seraphina came to an abrupt stop after rounding a corner. Jack would've run right into her if he hadn't been paying attention. "What's the problem?" She didn't give a reply, but his question was answered anyway as he reached her side, a sly smile reaching his lips as his gaze landed on the same thing hers were on. Walking out of the training room, shirt loose and bangs slick with a thin layer of sweat, came Sergeant Jameson. " _Ohhh_ , I see now," Jack cooed, nudging her playfully in the back. "You've had your eyes on Jamie for a while, huh?"

At the comment, she seemed to return to her senses, shooting a dirty glare his way. "I wouldn't know a thing about it." It was impossible to miss the fine layer of red darkening her cheeks.

To her fluster, Jack pushed her forward as he waved a hand. "Jamie!"

When the Corporal turned his head and saw them, flashing both of them their own, individual smile, the kind of which that could bring the most heartless of heathens crumpling to their knees, Seraphina turned and took refuge behind Jack's form. It was the only time she allowed him to walk ahead of her.

"Hey, Overland." Jamie's eyes cast down to Seraphina, giving her a nod of acknowledgement. "Lady Pitchiner."

At the greeting, Jack could feel Seraphina digging her nails into the loose part of his shirt. He was sure if he turned to look, he would see steam pouring from her ears. Seraphina had met Jamie within her first week on the airship and had fallen for the charming boy ever since she first laid eyes on him. She became uncharacteristically shy, while simultaneously acting rougher with Jack the more embarrassed she got. He could judge her feelings by how deeply her nails dug into his flesh. Whenever she absolutely couldn't stand it anymore, she would stomp on his foot with all her might, or kick him right in the back of the knee, before taking off. It was was her strange, less-than-delightful way of expressing her feelings, but he always thought children were mean to the person they _liked_ , not to the poor, innocent individual who happened to be in the same vicinity.

He also expected Seraphina to have a more negative reaction towards being called Lady Pitchiner, considering it was the same title her mother had, but she seemed to enjoy it quite a lot, especially coming from Jamie. In fact, _only_  coming from Jamie. The first time Jack had tried it, she had laughed a full minute and told him if he called her that again, she would cut out his tongue in his sleep. Needless to say, it wasn't spoken a second time.

"Were you training?" Jack asked. "Wanna give it a go?" Even though he was tired, he thought a good round of sparring might be a good way to get his blood pumping. He still had a long day ahead of him.

Shaking his head, Jamie grabbed a bottle of water. "Sorry, but I'm worn out. Maybe next time?"

"Just let me...know..." Jack trailed off, a tuff of blond hair catching his peripheral vision. Whoever it belonged to left the small arena the other way, going through the weapon storage room instead. Raising a brow, he turned his attention back to the brunet standing before him. "'Worn out,' huh?" His grin was practically lecherous. "Dare I ask, doing _what_  with _who_?"

Jamie choked on the water he'd been drinking, spitting what he'd had in his mouth into his hand and turning his head away to clear the water that'd gone the wrong way down. After taking a moment to recover, he swiveled his head back around, glowering halfheartedly at the Commander.

" _Training_  with a _soldier_ ," Jamie emphasized, clearly drawing out his words. "That was it." When Jack's knowing grin failed to be wiped from his face, the Corporal let out a loud, agitated sigh, his voice cracking undoubtedly against his will as he gave another retort. "I'm _serious_! Stop. Stop looking at me."

Jack did, but it was only because he felt a warning jab of a nail sticking into his side. He raised an eyebrow at Seraphina, who was wearing an unexpected frown. She didn't look happy, but it was hard to tell the reason why.

When he turned back to look at Jamie, he was pleased to see the other man's cheeks tinted with the slightest shade of pink. The satisfaction of getting a rise out of him was sweeter than Boa's chocolate cake. "Alright, alright," Jack drawled, motioning for Seraphina to peel herself off of him. "I'll take your word for it. No need to get your panties in a twist, Jamie, jeeze. I'll see you at lunch then."

"Yeah," Jamie huffed, not looking the least bit pleased with their brief interaction. "Try not to think too hard about it, Overland. We all know what happens when you put too much in that little brain of yours."

"Low blow," Jack dead-panned. He wasn't in the least bit bothered by the empty insult, having heard the same shot by the uncreative boy a hundred times in the past. It was the second usage of the detached _Overland_  that irked him, so as he turned, he shot one last comment over his shoulder. "Tell D'gell not to fill up before lunch."

He quickly urged Seraphina around the corner as he heard Jamie angrily shout his name, ducking his head as if he expected a boot to be thrown at him. Luckily, they escaped the dangers of a livid Jamie, and Jack allowed Seraphina to slow to a walk once they reached the next level up. He was still laughing to himself, giving silent congratulations where they were due over that perfect line in leaving. It wasn't until he realized that Seraphina was stomping away at his side, her footsteps landing heavily against the metal floors, that he dropped the grin.

"What's wrong?"

She paused to consider her answer, before shaking her head and continuing on with something besides. " _Nothing_." Said between her teeth, like acid hissing through metal, Jack was able to deduce that it was clearly not 'nothing.' Luckily, he didn't have to pry, as she soon went on, obviously trying to sound less angry than she blatantly was. "Who's Dragiel?"

"Dragiel?- Oh." The smile soon returned to Jack's lips as realization began setting in. "You mean _D'gell_?"

"Sure, Daggard, whatever it is." She waved a hand as if she was entirely uninterested, when he could tell she so clearly was.

Jack hummed, a bounce practically in his step as he walked behind her. "He might have something to do with Jamie. He might not." He shrugged, acting as if he didn't know exactly what their deal was. "All I know is, Jamie might've taken a liking to the guy."

"A _liking_?!" She practically screeched it.

Jack feigned a gasp. "Sera! You wouldn't happen to be-"

She abruptly spun on her heel to face him, her eyes alight with flames that sparked just beneath the surface. "There's something I want to do."

Caught off-guard, Jack blinked down at her. He'd half-expected her to snap at him for teasing her, but he was still worried she was going to command him to do something dreadful to pay for it. "What's that?"

She paused, biting her lip in thought as her hands balled into fists at her sides. After another minute went by, she let out a sigh of aggravation. "I don't know! _Something_." When she met his eyes, Jack caught sight of a familiar spark of mischief behind them, a sight he hadn't seen for such a long time that he was almost surprised he recognized it at all.

He understood then what it was she meant to do. "Alright," he decided. "If we're going to do this, we're going to need some help." At the light beaming from Seraphina's face, he abruptly held up a hand. "I'm going to let you know now that this is a dangerous situation. This needs to be kept strictly between you, me, and the one person I'm going to have help us out. You can't tell Jamie, you can't tell the Captain, and you _definitely_  can't say a word about it to your father."

Without an ounce of hesitation, Seraphina replied, "Let's do it."

Jack felt a warm swelling in the pit of his stomach. It was almost a strange sensation, as if some part of him had been frozen for so very long that feeling it thaw and integrate back into his being was...natural, but unfamiliar. It was as if he was being asked to execute an action he hadn't needed to do in months, in nearly a _year_ , really. God, had it only been that long? Less than a year? How much had happened to him to twist him from one person to another, and into the conglomerate of a man he was that day? It would make him dizzy to even begin thinking about it.

On their way to the mess hall, Jack grabbed the arm of a soldier passing by, twisting her around from the direction she was heading to follow in step beside him. "Jé! Just the gal I was hoping to see." When she shot a glare his way, he returned it with a toothy grin. "Listen, I need your help with something. You were heading to lunch anyway, right?"

She shrugged his arm off her shoulders and dusted herself off as if the mere touch of the Commander made her filthy. "Actually, I was going to see-"

"Me?" Jack tilted his head in Seraphina's direction, hoping Millie would get the hint. "It'll only take a minute. We'll talk over lunch and then you'll have plenty of time to do whatever you were about to do. I promise it won't take long." He gave her that look of his that could put puppies out of business and make any woman fall victim to his whims.

Unfortunately for him, Millie was never a huge fan of either dogs or men, and she wasn't at all affected by the look he was giving her. "If you stop looking at me like that, I'll do it." While Jack cheered for what he would still call a victory, Millie couldn't resist the urge to roll her eyes, blowing air out of her mouth as if his very presence tired her. "If I'd know that being a friend of yours meant getting dragged into your obnoxious schemes, I never would have signed up for it."

"It's not so bad," he quipped, making sure to stand at a safe distance from her lethal fists. He didn't doubt that if he picked a wrong nerve, she wouldn't hesitate to make him well aware of it.

He didn't give anything away until the three of them received their food, Seraphina just barely content with eating the same thing all the others on board the ship had to eat, and were sitting at a table of their own. Even though it was still early and there wasn't a whole lot of people in the mess hall, Jack still made an effort to keep his voice low at the risk of someone overhearing his plans.

"So," he began, swallowing past a piece of fruit, "if you needed to, per se, get into someone's room, someone you knew, would you be able to do it after curfew- yes or no?"

The stare Millie gave him was blank. She looked down at her tray of barely touched food, back up at him, took another bite of her sandwich, and rose to her feet. "I'm not doing this."

"Wait!" Both Jack and Seraphina had risen to catch her before she could escape.

Millie visibly ground her teeth together as her gaze flashed on Seraphina. The younger girl seemed to be enough for her to resign as she spilled back into her seat, not bothering to touch her food as she leaned back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest, and gave Jack a look that told him he better get on with it quickly before her thin thread of patience wore out the rest of the way.

Jack barely suppressed a sigh of relief. "You wouldn't need to do anything. I just need two things from you: the card key that gives you access to all the rooms, the one you got from the Captain, and the location of...D'gell's room."

"D'gell?!"

A few heads turned their way at the violently loud voice. Jack had to quickly wave his hands at the Officer to calm her back down while swiveling his head back and forth to make sure they hadn't caught the attention of the person in question. Luckily, there was no sight of the man in the room, so he relaxed, just barely, although it was obvious Millie wasn't going to do the same.

While her voice quieted down, the bite behind it certainly hadn't lessened. "You want to fuck with D'gell?" She was practically seething. "I knew you were stupid, Jack, but even the biggest of idiots know where to draw the line. This is just _brain-dead_. I can't even-" She gave herself a moment to catch her breath before she started going off again, lowering her rising voice back down to a normal speaking level. "You realize what happened last time you tried some shit like this with someone, right? In case you don't recall, let me remind you. His name was Cas and he tried to kill you. _Twice_."

Seraphina's eyes widened as she looked between them. "Isn't he the one from your stories?"

Jack laughed nervously, sinking back a little in his chair as Millie's eyes burned holes through his flesh and bone. "Yeah, Sera, that's the one." He cleared his throat and waved a hand, trying to brush it off. "But all of that's in the past now. I'm not talking about Cas, I'm talking about D'gell." He shot Seraphina a side-long glance. "You wanted to mess with him, didn't you?"

"I do," she assured him, although her voice was smaller. "You said that Cas isn't a problem any more, right? You said you blasted him into space?"

Millie's eyes were so hot on his skull that Jack could feel himself begin to sweat, but he couldn't tell Seraphina he'd been lying. "Yeah, yeah, space, long gone. _Anyway_." He once again cleared his throat, daring to look back at the Officer sitting across from him, hoping that his weak, human form would be able to withstand the vicious heat rolling off her in waves. "See? This is what she wants. Look, all I need is the room number and the card key."

Millie once again looked between the two before letting out a sigh. "Don't you have a card key of your own? I thought all Commanders were given one?"

"I...may have-"

"Save it." She sighed again, smoothing back her hair and tightening the knot on her ponytail. "I'll do it." Before he could say anything further, she quickly cut him off with a look full of daggers. "Don't you dare mention my name. If he catches you, don't expect me to come running to your safety. You're on your own."

"Deal."

"I can't believe this." She shook her head, reaching for his unused napkin as she pulled a pen from her pocket. She scribbled a few numbers on it before placing a cardkey from her back pocket on top of it, sliding it back over to him. When he raised a brow at her, confused why she would still have the cardkey on her, she just gave a nonchalant shrug. "Elva and I only get so much free time. It's easier when I can access every room."

"Right, no questions asked." Jack quickled shoved the napkin and the cardkey in his pocket, glancing around the room to make sure nobody had been listening in on their conversation. He was half-surprised Grant hadn't shown up to interrupt them yet, but he supposed that was for the best. Grant had a tendency to run his mouth off on the worst occasions. "I'll give it back tomorrow."

She rolled her eyes. "I can't believe the idiots I end up stuck with. Is it just me? Is it something I do? Is it a smell? Do I give off 'idiot pheromones,' Jack?" She looked half-serious, but before he could answer, she gave another loud sigh, grabbing her tray and rising to her feet. "I'm out of here. If anyone asks, you haven't seen me in days."

She was gone before he could give her so much as a good-bye.

\--

It wasn't until after dinner that Jack had the chance to take Seraphina down to the bilge. The floor wasn't even properly accessible—they had to climb down into a panel in the floor since there weren't any stairs leading down to it. The bilge wasn't meant to be accessed by anyone besides the mechanics, anyway, and they only went down there to run typical maintenance checks every so often. The whole floor was dark and dank, smelled of rust, and felt just the slightest bit chilly, although that could have just been his imagination since each level of the _Nova_ , even the very bottom one, was meant to have regulated temperatures.

Seeing the generators all lined up just reminded him of the time the shadows hid away in there and he couldn't help but direct his flashlight their way for a moment longer than necessary, eyes squinted, focused entirely on each and every detail, searching for a sign, _any_  sign, that something may be lurking in the machinery there. That far-off memory of Cas giving Millie a warning about getting off the ship before some unknown, mysterious "festivities," came back, fresh in mind, and sent a chill running down Jack's spine. An arm bumped into his own and he nearly jumped high enough to hit his head on the low-hanging ceiling. A shriek just barely concealed itself in the recesses of his throat.

As he turned the light towards the one who'd bumped into him, he was met with the unimpressed gaze of Seraphina, one brow raised, lips pursed. "There's nothing over there, doofus. I don't like it down here, it stinks." She rubbed her arms and gave an involuntary shudder. "I've got the creeps, so hurry up."

Rolling his eyes, Jack turned the light away from her, towards the floor in the direction of the corners concealed in a thin layer of darkness. When the light hit them, bugs scattered in every direction, some hiding themselves away under the generators, others crawling towards the two humans in the room. Bugs never bothered Jack. He used to entertain himself for hours with a jar out in the woods around his home, making a game out of how many different types of bugs he could catch and fit in the jar before he'd have to go back home. Jamie never liked the game quite as much and always refused if he was offered to come along. Seraphina, surprisingly, seemed unaffected, regarding a meteor-mite with little interest as it crawled over her shoe, off into another corner of the room.

"Are these what we came here for?" she asked, shaking the jar in her hand. Jack _borrowed_  it from the galley. He doubted any of the cooks would notice one unused jar was missing anyway.

"Yeah, there's always some down here," Jack confirmed, crouching to get a better look. He motioned for Seraphina to hand him the jar and placed it on its side on the floor, watching as three of the creepy crawlies skittered right inside, none the wiser. "We're going to need a few more than this, so help me get more in the jar."

Obliging, Seraphina dropped to the floor as well, pointing them out whenever she saw a gathering of them in one of the corners the light didn't hit. "What do these do anyway?"

"Not much," he admitted. "When they bite you, they leave glowing red marks and make you itchy. It's annoying, but pretty much harmless. I'm pretty sure sickbay has ointment for it."

She huffed. "That's weak."

"Well, we don't have any tar or feathers, and they keep the crater crabs locked up since the last incident, so this is our best bet. Trust me, it'll be good." He just hoped it was minimal enough that D'gell wouldn't feel the need to seek out whoever did it to him. Millie had a point when she called him stupid, but Seraphina insisted they do something, and Jack couldn't deny the spark of enjoyment he got just by planning it out, so refusing to do it would be like reverting back to the boring stiff he'd been turning into over the past few months before Seraphina got there. The thought of that happening frightened him more than D'gell's wrath.

"That's enough," he announced after a few minutes. The meteor-mites were small, but visible, and they had about an eighth of a jar full.

"What now?"

Jack lead Seraphina to the panel they used to get into the bilge, peeked out to make sure nobody was around, and hopped out, helping her shortly after. "Well, _now_ , you tell me when your dad hits the sack so I can drop off these kiddies," he shook the jar for emphasis, "in their rightful place after curfew. And, if it worked out, we'll find out tomorrow."

When Seraphina's gaze landed on the jar full of creepy little bugs itching to bite the flesh of whatever they could get their tiny teeth on, the grin she grew was malicious. "Good."

\--

There was no way of knowing if the plan actually worked or not until they came across D'gell, so Jack and Seraphina spent the next day going about their business as usual, keeping an eye out for the older Officer. Unfortunately, there was no sign of him, even as the day dragged on past lunch and into what would be known as the afternoon.

Still, Jack was relieved to have his time filled by doing frivolous activities. Whenever he and Pitch were around each other, so long as they weren't alone, everything was as it would normally be, but the moment they were left by themselves, the air fell heavy with an awkward, intangible tension, one that Pitch himself couldn't quite place a finger on, but Jack could. He knew where it came from and he knew he was the one to blame, but it was hard trying to force himself to act naturally again. Pitch was as busy as ever, of course, and with Seraphina around, Jack's time was filled by the things she asked him to do with her, so their paths didn't often cross unless Seraphina wanted to see her father or unless she went off to take a nap.

Whenever Jack found himself alone with the General, they would simply stand across from one another, at a noticeable distance—not a great one, but still there. When they would kiss, their bodies would not be pressed against each other, and their clothes would not be the only thing separating them. Their interactions were brief, their breaths never having the time to grow heavy, their cheeks lacking the lovely tint of flush that shown more clearly on Jack's pale cheeks than Pitch's. Even fewer words were passed between them. Pitch would always open his mouth as if he wanted to ask a question, but, to Jack's tentative relief, and also perhaps to his buried disappointment, the General would never speak a word about it. He probably didn't know the reason why.

It wasn't that Jack didn't want to say what was on his mind, it was just that he was afraid it wasn't the right time for it. What if he was jumping the gun? Worse- what if Pitch didn't feel the same? What if he-

"Hey!"

Jack was thrown from his thoughts by a whisper from below. As he looked, Seraphina was jabbing him in the side to get his attention, hand cupped to her mouth as she pointed with the other towards a direction down the hall.

"Wha- _Oh_." At first, he hadn't noticed whatever it was she was pointing out, but once he had, he felt his hands begin to itch with a mix of anticipation, nerves, and excitement all at once. Down the hall, just leaving one of the few rooms for sickbay, was none other than D'gell. Even from the distance, Jack could tell his dark skin was marred with glowing red bumps that were obviously causing the Officer some discomfort as he scratched the air above his arms, as if he were trying to scratch them without actually doing so to avoid making them worse.

The halls were nearly empty, so although he was distracted at first, D'gell's attention was stolen when Jack's snort of barely bitten-back laughter broke through the quiet air.

Their gazes met.

D'gell's eyes narrowed.

Jack's smile disappeared.

 _Oh shit_. "He knows," Jack managed to whisper back, just as the Officer started storming down the hall straight in his direction. He wanted to ask _how_  it was even possible that someone as dimwitted as D'gell would figure it out so easily, so _quickly_ , but the answer was too obvious. He knew from the beginning that it would be. Millie had even tried to warn him about it. Who else on the _Nova_  was known to pull pranks on the unsuspecting soldiers on board? Why, after so many peaceful nights, would there suddenly be meteor-mites in the Officer's room? Even if he didn't actually know, how convenient it would be that Jack would show up just when D'gell was looking for an explanation for the misfortune that had suddenly befallen him, or at least an excuse of someone to take out his aggression on.

"Seraphina," Jack murmured, already spinning towards the other direction, "stay here. Don't leave, don't follow."

Seraphina barely had a chance to throw out the question of, "Why?" before Jack was a blur of color against the halls, with another, bulkier blur following close on his heels.

It was strange, in a way. It was hard to describe the feelings Jack got from being chased by some brute through the halls and levels of the _Nova_ , barely avoiding crashing into others with only escape in mind. Of course, the most obvious ones would be something along the lines of fear, or anxiety, or concern for his own well-being for when, or if, he was eventually caught, but those were the furthest from mind. At the very front was pure, unadulterated _excitement_. It was the most indescribable sensation of a long-lost, haze-filled familiarity stirring the exhilaration in his gut, the kind that put a skip in his step as his feet moved him forward, and a smile on his face when he knew a fist could come flying towards it at any moment.

It was _fun_.

However, the thrill of the chase was thrown off-kilter by the reality of being caught, which was exactly what happened by the time Jack managed to escape down to the eighth level, the sleeping quarters for the Corporals and Sergeants. D'gell caught him by the collar of his shirt, yanking him back and all but tossing the Commander into the nearby wall, blocking any paths to freedom by slamming his hand against the wall, dangerously close to Jack's head.

Swallowing his nerves, the smile that crawled on Jack's lips was anything but. "Funny meeting you here," he lightly commented. "You're not looking so good."

"Fancy that," D'gell growled, teeth showing. He was like an animal posed and ready to attack at any sudden movements, so Jack made none, remaining stiff against the wall. "I wonder why."

Ignoring the fact that it had, indeed, been him, Jack felt compelled to ask, "Why would it be me?"

D'gell slammed his fist against the wall for the second time. His voice, however, was dangerously low as he spoke through his tightly clamped teeth. "When is it _not_  you?"

Before Jack could find the words to answer the rhetorical question, D'gell's hand was already flying back, balled in a fist, and aiming straight for his face. Jack had the right mind to duck as it slammed against the wall, sliding away and backing down the hall as the Officer threw another at him, the whole weight of his body put into it. The force of the blow made him sloppy, but he was surprisingly quick, hardly giving Jack a chance to trip over himself to get away.

He'd just barely ducked from a fist that flew so close to his face he could feel the breeze of it as it went by when a voice sounded from behind.

"What's going on here?"

Although Jack was in no position to do so, the familiarity of the voice made him pause, which was just long enough for D'gell to get in a firm punch right to his stomach. A strained sound of pain and surprise fell past Jack's lips as he doubled over, crouching on the floor with the older Officer standing over him. He winced as he saw the blond ready himself to continue the abuse with a few well-placed kicks aimed straight for the ribs, but whatever attack he was planning was disturbed as the person who'd called out a moment before came jolting forward, shoving D'gell back and forming a wall between the two of them.

Looking up, Jack's icy blues were met with the mess of autumn leaves in Jamie's gaze as the Sergeant looked from one soldier to the other. "What exactly is going on here?"

"My hero," Jack halfheartedly wheezed, barely resisting the urge to fall onto his side. _Damn_ , D'gell hit hard.

D'gell was breathing heavily, hands still clenched into fists. He looked like it was taking every ounce of his self-control not to fly past Jamie and continue his attack. Pointing accusingly at his own arms, he shouted, "That _garbage_  did _this_  to me! Look at me! I'm itching! It's driving me fucking out of my head!" His hands returns to the positions they'd been in earlier, his eyes twitching as he just barely resisted the overwhelming urge to scratch at the marks on his arms. "I know he did it. I _know_  he did it!"

"Overland?" Jamie queried, quirking a brow. He looked hesitant, torn between listening to D'gell's fury-filled words and wanting to make sure Jack was alright. "Is this true?"

That was the defining point, the official confirmation that Jamie and D'gell most certainly had a _thing_. If it'd been anyone but D'gell at that moment accusing Jack of doing something against him right after punching him in the gut, Jamie would have pulled the mother hen card and jumped immediately to Jack's defense.

The realization would've made Jack laugh in delight if it wouldn't have pained him so much to do so. "I can't be blamed," he argued, testing his voice. "I was put up to it."

"So you _do_  have something to do with what's happened to him?"

Jack pursed his lips, glancing up at Jamie for a moment, only to look away again once he felt the heat of the other man's disappointed gaze. He felt too much like a child being punished, but it was a feeling he was used to. "I can't say I _wasn't_ , per se..."

"Stop!" The three turned their heads to see Seraphina marching towards them, eyes wide as she came to a stop at Jack's side, arms spread out as if to protect him. "It wasn't him! I asked him to do it! I mean, I _made_  him do it! He has to do everything I say." She sniffed, looking as if she were just barely holding back tears. "I told him to put meteor-mites from the bilge in Diego's room while he slept."

Jamie frowned, his expression softening in the presence of a child. "Now, Lady Pitchiner, why would you ask Jack to do something like that?"

She blew out her cheeks, glaring at D'gell, who still stood behind Jamie. He seemed to have calmed just a margin, enough to maintain control of his temper while Seraphina was around. When Seraphina pointed a finger at him, his eyes widened in confusion, thrown off-guard. " _That_."

"' _That_ '?" Jack and D'gell spouted in sync, Jack with a huff of laughter, D'gell with a hint of offense taken.

Frowning, Jamie looked between the Officer and the little girl, before suddenly coming to understand the situation. "Oh, I think I get it." Leaning down to address her better, he gave her the smile that could melt the hearts of those most frozen. "Sera, you know I'm too old for you, right?" She blew out the air held in her cheeks, but didn't give a response. "You're the cutest girl I've ever seen. Once you get off this stuffy ship, there will be tons of suitors for you."

She turned her gaze towards his, upset for having to hear the things she knew, but refused to acknowledge. "But-"

"'But' nothing," Jamie sternly said. Jack wasn't the only one who did well with children. "D'gell is someone I, uh," he hesitated, biting his lip for a moment before finding the words to continue, "someone who matters to me, so I don't want to see him hurt, just like you don't want to see anything happen to Jack, right?" Seraphina's only response was a displeased nod. "You'll promise me you won't do anything else like this towards him again?"

Seraphina was silent. Jack didn't think she would answer at all, but as soon as she bothered to look back into those pools of autumn brown, any signs of refusal fell away. She gave him another, solemn nod. "I promise," she murmured, not in the least bit happy about it.

"Good!" Jamie beamed as he grabbed Seraphina up and planted a kiss on her cheek. Her face lit up like a beacon on the darkest of night's, her mouth falling open, eyes growing as wide as moons, cheeks redder than a dying sun.

Satisfied, Jamie moved past her to help Jack to his feet again, looking less than proud of him for going along with the malevolent wishes of a little girl. "I want the same promise out of you," he leered.

Jack shot a glance at D'gell, who met his gaze for only a second before glancing away. It was surprising to note the hint of regret in the Officer's expression, as if he felt bad for acting as he did. While Jack highly doubted he would ever get an apology out of the man in a million years, just seeing that look on his face was more than enough, especially coming from someone who'd seemed so eager to beat the life out of him every other time their paths crossed.

Focusing his attention back on Jamie, Jack gave him half a smile. "I guess I can give it a try," he said. "Do I get a kiss, too?"

Instead, Jamie promptly punched him in the arm. At Jack's following whine, the Sergeant snorted. "You'll live." He turned towards D'gell and motioned for him to start walking. His parting words with the other two were short and simple. "I'll give you a lecture another time." He and D'gell were soon out of sight, leaving Jack and Seraphina alone in the hall.

Seraphina was the first to break the silence. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Jack replied. He couldn't fight back the smile growing on his lips, thrilled by the excitement swirling in the pit of his bruised stomach. It was a sensation he hadn't felt in so long that he'd almost forgotten it'd ever existed. "I had fun."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how or why this chapter ended up so long, but it did. It's my longest yet!
> 
> It seems like Jack's finally returning to normalcy, thanks to the help of Seraphina. It's good to see him having his fun again.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Thank you for your comments and kudos!!


	26. Chapter 26

“The bullet we’re running from is almost never the one that hits us.”

— _Toby Barlow, Sharp Teeth_

\--

It was just before curfew when Jack finally found some time to himself. Seraphina had run him rampant around the airship that day and he was worn out after an extensive, interactive story-time session in the saloon, where she wasn’t his only audience member, but was surely his most enthusiastic. While it was overwhelmingly enjoyable to feel even the slightest bit like his usual self again, there were too many things on his mind that kept him from thoroughly enjoying the sensation.

He was worried that if he were to ever properly return to how he was before, that he would forget all the mistakes of his past, that he would become the oblivious, mess-making screw up that ruined the lives of his closest loved ones. He was afraid that if he allowed himself to relax too much, he would slip up somewhere along the way and he would endure more turmoil, indirectly caused by his own lack of abilities. There wasn’t a whole lot of time to train, but whenever he had the chance to, he would work by himself in the small training arena, slashing and hacking away at wooden dummies. In his mind, they were shadows, and sometimes, they became more than that. Sometimes, they became a woman with light gray skin and a voice as smooth as silk, with nails that were more like claws, but were still the same that used to cradle him to sleep when he was a child.

He would always stop after that.

It took so long for him to find somewhere he belonged and to find people he could call his own, even if it wasn’t in any official way. After losing his entire family to the shadows, Jack truly thought there was nothing left for him besides revenge. He wanted nothing more than to get his sister back, but even before he saw the false her with his own eyes, somehow he always knew that it was an impossible goal. He hardly expected to find his mother, and finding her in the condition that she’d been in had practically been worse than not finding her at all. To see a loved one suffering, especially before the days of their demise, was painful. It cut a gash somewhere deep inside him, especially knowing he was the one who drove her to that state in the first place, and, ultimately, was the one who drove the sword through her as well.

Some part of him still wanted to go back to those delusions he had before all of that happened, even though he knew very well that ignorance did not equal bliss. Maybe it would have been easier to never have discovered the true fate of his mother. Maybe it would have been easier to never have accepted what his sister had become, that she was lost forever. He still found himself wondering sometimes, when he watched the sleeping face of the child who was not his kin, but could occasionally look so similar, if she suffered, or if she truly was in that shadowy form, buried deep down inside the depths somewhere. He wondered if she was conscious without control of her own body, forced to watch as she attacked her own brother and laid waste to innocent civilians. He wondered if there still wasn’t something he could do, or if he was just kidding himself thinking she was still alive in any way at all.

There was nothing easy about acceptance. It would take time—too much than he had left on his hands, probably. Every so often, Jack would find himself wondering what age he might live up to, only to quickly cast those thoughts away. Considering his own fate would never lead to anything positive. For whatever amount of time he had left, he made a silent promise to make sure never to repeat the blunders of his past. He wouldn’t leave the sides of those who needed him. He wouldn’t allow them to suffer, even if it meant he had to take their place.

From behind, something tugged at the back of his shirt, pulling him backwards. Before he could so much as shout, or even do much at all to react, there was a hand over his mouth, while the other remained around his middle, holding him firmly in place. The panic only died as his head was tilted back to meet with the gaze of a certain General, one brow quirked, staring back down at him with mild bemusement. Slowly, the hand around his middle uncurled itself as Pitch brought it up to his lips, signaling for Jack to be silent. When he got a nod in response, he removed the hand over the soldier’s mouth and motioned for him to follow.

As they walked in silence down the corridors, Jack felt a slight pinch of nerves beginning to churn in the pit of his stomach. It wasn’t the same as when he thought he was in trouble, because he knew he wasn’t, but it was nearly worse. In fact, it was probably something that could be described as childish, not unlike the feeling school kids got whenever they were around their crush in the hall before class, whenever their crush would meet their eye or accidentally brush their hand, and they would get chills down their spine to accompany the nerves building within them. By then, being alone with Pitch was natural. They fell together easily, always tending to each others’ needs and desires, always knowing just what to do to please, to satisfy.

Lately, however, that tension had started to feel a bit different. Every time he and Pitch were alone, Jack was too afraid to even open his mouth with the words that were running so frantically, so insistently, through his mind. It didn’t matter how hard he tried to silence them, they would always come rushing back to the surface like an ocean wave during a storm, carrying him under until all he could think to do was keep his mouth shut so he wouldn’t accidentally drown—or in this case, say the words he was sure he would regret. Pitch’s mind was a hard one to read. Getting closer to him had only given Jack the chance to unveil one thin layer of the many that was the enigma of Pitch’s subconscious.

When they came to a stop, Jack left his thoughts long enough to assess where they ended up. Not surprisingly, they were at Pitch’s office, although, checking the clock, he realized it was only a handful of minutes before curfew. Even as a Commander, he didn’t have the proper authorization to be out wandering the halls after hours. The only ones who had permission to do so were the Captain, Pitch, and the Sergeants given monitor duty. Then again, when he really thought about it, it really wasn’t all that hard to slip past the usually still lights and lazy gazes of the monitors on duty. The only real concern was getting caught in the cameras, but since Pitch was the only one with access to them, it wouldn’t matter anyway.

Stepping inside the office once it was unlocked, they didn’t even give the door time to slide closed behind them before their lips were brought together. There was a soft, almost considerate hand placed to the small of Jack’s back. He could feel the slightest bit of pressure from it, as if Pitch wanted to pull him flush against him, but was too tentative to go through with it. All it did was make everything feel more awkward, especially when Jack made no move to help by pushing himself closer, or by grabbing the belt loops of Pitch’s pants to pull him towards him like he usually did. There was a distance between them. It wasn’t solid, like a wall, but even while it was empty, it was hard to see a solution to getting through it.

Finally, when Pitch could stand it no longer, he pushed lightly against Jack’s chest, putting even more distance between them. It was just one step back, but it was enough for the warmth to fall from Jack’s form. A chill settled beneath his skin, following a barely suppressed shudder.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Pitch stated. It wasn’t a question.

Jack looked up to meet his eyes, but seeing what he did in them had him immediately glancing away. Although he was afraid of what might come out, he knew it would be impossible to stay quiet the entire time, especially when he was being spoken to. He couldn’t allow he and Pitch to grow further apart, especially not over something as childish as the thoughts brewing in his mind, but just because it didn’t _seem_  like it was that difficult of a thing to do or say, in all its cliche, it really was.

“I’m not,” was his retort. They both knew it was a lie. It was one of his worst yet.

“Jack.” Even with his gaze bouncing around the room, Jack could tell the other man was staring skeptically at him, brows knit, arms crossed. Perhaps he knew him too well.

Steeling himself and swallowing the words just a bit further down, Jack went on. “Is this-” His tone was embarrassingly high in octave, so he cleared his throat, shifted his stance, tried again. “Is this what you brought me here for?”

There was another painfully long silence where neither of them said a word. Jack was nearly ready to repeat himself when Pitch finally broke the silence with a drawn-out sigh. “Just when I begin to think I have you all figured out, you once again throw me for a loop.” When Jack looked up, Pitch had his back turned, heading towards the couch where he took a seat and leaned back into the cushions, shutting his eyes with his head tilted up towards the ceiling. “I really am clueless with these things.”

Despite those nasty nerves of his, Jack stifled a laugh, bringing himself to move away from his position by the door to join Pitch on the couch. He draped himself over the General’s lap, sitting sideways with his legs stretched over the rest of the cushions, his back leaned up against the arm of the couch. When Pitch peaked open an eye to look at him, neither of them could help but smile.

Tangling his fingers in Jack’s milky locks, Pitch offhandedly continued. “I was never good when it came to figuring out Onyx’s feelings, either. She would sometimes go weeks avoiding me, refusing to tell me what it was I did wrong, until she would simply get over it one day and all would go back to normal.” Although he didn’t say it, Jack could tell Pitch was disconcerted by not knowing the reasons behind his sudden avoidance, but he didn’t know how to make him feel any better about it. It didn’t help that he was subtly comparing him to his departed wife. “Is there something I can do?”

Jack glanced towards the door for the briefest of moments before returning his gaze to Pitch, who was watching him carefully, patiently waiting for an answer.

How _could_  he answer? It wasn’t _just_  a matter of child-like, school-boy nerves, it was also a concern of whether or not Jack felt he even had the _right_  to say those three little words. Pitch had just spoken of his wife, the one he didn’t choose to part with, but was forced to through terrible unfortunate circumstances. If Onyx was still alive, there was no doubt that they would still be together. In some way, Jack felt like it would be wrong to steal Pitch away from her, even though there was no logical way the two of them could still be together, for obvious reasons. Although she was physically out of his life, her memory still remained with him. Was his heart still with her? Had enough time passed since her death for Pitch to sincerely move on? Was there enough room for him to love Jack just as he had his wife?

Biting down on his tongue, and the words that stuck to the tip of it, Jack shook his head and laid it against the crook of Pitch’s neck. Again, they were silent. The fingers brushing through his hair was soothing, lulling him slowly to sleep after the long day he’d had. He was sure the General had to be exhausted too, considering all the duties that needed tending to.

Just for the sake of filling the silence, knowing that if he happened to doze off, it would only be for a few minutes before Pitch woke him up to go to his cabin, Jack thought of something to talk about, straying from the previous topic. "Sera misses spending time with you. When do you think you'll have some time for her?" After taking a moment to shift into a more comfortable position, he went on. "I mean, we've been in a lull for a while. There hasn't been any activity from the shadows in months. What's there left for you to do besides boring paperwork?"

"More than I would care to explain," Pitch murmured, sounding displeased. "I want nothing more than to spend even a minute with her, but every time I get a moment to myself, someone seems to be causing an issue, or something seems to be acting up, and I get carried off again. It's always been this way; you know that."

Although Jack supposed he could understand, he felt like he should have been able to do something for the two of them. Nothing ever came to mind.

Before he could say anything, Pitch continued. "We'll just keep this between you and I. Whenever Seraphina's grandparents contact me to bring her back to them, they don't need to know how little time I've spent with her."

"Yeah," Jack frowned. "They didn't seem that keen on me being with her anyway."

"Oh, no, I beg to differ." When Jack pulled away to give Pitch a skeptical look, the General explained. "From what I recall, your surprising display of maturity worked to charm them quite well, even if it was a bit unorthodox." He hid a grin behind his hand.

Jack rolled his eyes. "Yeah, thanks."

"They aren't very accepting of most. They're only barely accepting of me, and the majority of respect I'd managed to garnish from them faded when their daughter passed away."

"Well," Jack readjusted and laid his head back against the arm of the couch, eyes closed, "we already know how the in-laws on my side think of you." A beat of silence went by before the realization of what he'd just said came shooting through him, startling him into a proper sitting position, eyes wide, cheeks darkening over with a flustered painting of blush. "Not- not to imply we're married."

While he was adamantly trying to looking in every other direction, his gaze ultimately fell back on Pitch's when the General grabbed his chin in his hand and pulled his face towards him. A hand on the small of his back pulled Jack even closer, as well as they could get in that position.

"Why Jack," the General purred, "if I didn't know any better, I would say that was a marriage proposal."

If it was even possible, Jack's face reddened from the tips of his ears down to his neck at the very consideration of such a thing. "I- I didn't, I-" He swallowed, suddenly finding those nerves racing back through his veins with no finish line anywhere throughout his body. He smiled- a reflex of his nerves, nothing more.

Pitch stole a kiss from the blubbering soldier and Jack could feel the man's own smile curving his lips. "It's not like you to be so tongue-tied."

Knowing it would be best for the sake of his reputation not to try and respond, Jack pushed back into the kiss, drowning out Pitch's taunts with their lips locked together instead. He could feel the hand on the small of his back reaching under his untucked shirt, trailing spider-like up the path of his spine, only to fall back down to the bottom again, leaving a shuddery trail of goosebumps in its absence.

Jack instantly regretted pulling away to catch his breath when, all at once, Pitch's hands fell away from his body. He'd been in the midst of adjusting into a more comfortable position, straddling Pitch's hips. Between that and the lack of support on his back, he lost his balance mid-shift and dropped to his ass on the floor at Pitch's feet. He looked up, blinking to cover his surprise over the unexpected development.

"You did that on purpose," he accused, not entirely positive of it.

His theory was proven when Pitch gave a slight nod of his head. "We can't get into that tonight. It's already past curfew. It would be irresponsible to continue."

With a groan, Jack pulled himself up to his knees, splaying his hands over Pitch's legs. "Maybe I want to be a little irresponsible." To push his point, he ran his tongue slowly, suggestively over his curved lips. "Don't you?"

Pitch looked like he wanted to allow it. In fact, from the strained look on his face, it seemed like it took every fiber of his being to shoo Jack away and get to his feet, ushering Jack up with him. After placing an all-too-brief kiss to his lips, he turned the Commander around to face the direction of the door. "It's late enough already and we both have responsibilities to tend to starting early in the morning." Even though he said that, his hands lingered a moment too long on Jack's shoulders before finally falling away. "Perhaps I'll make an effort to make more time tomorrow."

Jack's posture slumped. "You're no fun." He turned and stuck his tongue out at the General. " _Tomorrow_. I'm holding you to that. It's been too long." _Much_  too long.

"I'll make sure of it," Pitch promised. They two of them shared a quiet smile, relieved to have cleared the tension, at least for the moment. With nothing left to be given, they said their goodnights and parted ways.

\--

Everything was going as it should be, as normal as every day before it, so it was surprising to Jack when Seraphina suddenly told him she wanted to be alone. Her voice was soft when she said it, her eyes drawn towards the metal ground beneath their feet as they stood across from one another in the corridor on the second level. It was just before dinner and she'd been so full of energy earlier in the day that he assumed she was just tired, but it didn't seem like the right conclusion. He'd seen her tired plenty of times, but it wasn't like this.

"Is something wrong?" he couldn't help but ask. He wasn't sure what kind of response to expect. After all, she could be a bit unorthodox more often than not, especially when it came to her feelings. If something was bothering her, she might rather lash out than tell him the truth of her troubles.

Rather than jab him with her sword, she merely sighed, her whole body drooping with the motion of it. "Nothing's wrong," she replied. It wasn't very convincing.

The way she said it struck Jack as odd, so he dared to push; although, with that, all he could really do was try to guess. "Are you tired?" Again, he doubted it. His theories were confirmed when she shook her head. When she turned away from him and began walking away, he carefully followed, consciously remaining a few steps behind her at all times, just how she preferred it. "Is there something you wanted to do?"

The question made her pause. She seemed to consider her answer, her mouth falling open, only to close again with a simple, helpless shrug.

"Sera," Jack frowned, beginning to grow worried by her uncharacteristic behavior, "if there's something wrong, you can tell me. You know that, right? You can tell me anything." It wasn't like her to act so dreary, especially when she seemed to be doing well before then.

"I know," she murmured, avoiding his gaze. She scuffed her shoe against the floor while she tried to think of a proper way to word what it was she was feeling. "I _do_  want something. I just don't know _what_."

Jack blinked down at her, somehow surprised by the answer she gave. He wasn't sure what to expect, but it wasn't that, although her reply wasn't all that strange either. It was a common feeling, shared especially by those who were cooped up in a stuffy airship all day every day for months at a time. It was the longest time Seraphina had been stuck in the _Nova_ , too, so it must have been extra hard on her, especially when she had all the pent-up energy every child her age had. It undoubtedly helped that Jack could match her pace and give her distractions where they were needed, but she was probably still going stir-crazy not being able to have anywhere new to explore, or anything interesting to inspect or discover. Everything was always the same there.

There was only so much he could actually do about it, but if there was something he could actually do to help, he would. "Hey." He walked around her so they were once against facing each other. "If there was one thing you would do if you could, what would it be? What's the one thing you'd like to do more than anything?" When she rose her chin up to look at him, he gave her a soft, considerate smile. "I can't make any promises, but I'll try to make it happen."

For a moment, her expression was blank, but thoughtful. Her silence didn't have the chance to drag before something came to mind for her to say. "When I lived on the Moon," she began, "I used to have a schooner. Whenever my parents were too busy to notice, I would take it out and ride along the Sea of Stars." The look in her eyes as she spoke was not one for that time. Rather, she was somewhere in the past, perhaps in a better time altogether, when she still had her mother and the worst thing she had to worry about was getting caught going against her mother's wishes. "Mommy hated it. She always worried, but Daddy would talk her out of it. He understood."

In a way, Jack thought he understood, too. It'd been so long since he rode his sloop outside the airship, so long since he got to see the stars up close without the barrier of a glass window blocking his view of them, so long since he could actually feel that indescribable sensation of freedom and openness, like nothing ever mattered, and that nothing ever would, and that it was okay. The last time he was even outside the _Nova_ , not counting their descent on Pollux, he'd been in the caravel Ms. Bennett let him borrow. He'd seen the stars he used to love so much and felt an aching loss in his chest over the lack of anything he felt towards them at that time.

Maybe it would be different this time.

"You know," he grinned, "I think I just might be able to help you with that."

Seraphina stared at him in awe, mouth agape, eyes wide. "Could you?" Even if he thought of saying nothing about it before, just seeing the look on her face in that moment confirmed Jack's intentions. He couldn't take that away from her.

"Of course I can." Taking a glance around to make sure nobody was around to listen in on them, he lowered his voice. "This is another thing that stays between us, alright? Jamie can't know, Irra can't know, your dad can't know- _just_  us."

She nodded so quickly he almost expected her to give herself whiplash. "It'll stay between us," she promised.

He smiled, motioning for her to follow as they walked down towards the lower levels. Since most people who weren't on duty were preoccupied with dinner in the mess hall, they had an easy time sneaking into the flight deck on the eleventh level. It was just as empty as it usually was when nobody was in there tuning anything up. Every so often, a Lieutenant might come down to check on a prisoner in the brig, especially when they hadn't been able to drop Cas off on his home planet yet, but their luck held out when Jack checked down the hall to make sure the coast was clear.

The shields had been down for a while. There hadn't been any signs of a threat for a while, so they kept the bright glow of the camouflage up and the shields down to preserve power, which was perfect for anyone who wanted to sneak off for a little while. Before, Jack would have to worry about Irra catching him in the act, or Jamie in that case, but he was the Commander in charge of the area Irra used to be assigned to, and Jamie was probably eating dinner, so they had nothing to worry about.

He watched as Seraphina wandered over to the line of schooners, military grade, admiring them with a shine in her eyes that matched the metal of the ships themselves. She turned to look at him. "So which one's yours?"

"Well, I have one they assigned to me, but I prefer using my own, personal sail ship." He walked over to the other side of the room where the personal ships were stored, kept well out of the way of the professional ships so nobody would accidentally take the wrong one. Next to Jamie's caravel was a much smaller sail ship, similar to the schooners, but not as durable, not as impressive. Still, Jack beamed with pride as he laid eyes on it. "I present to you: _Frost_ , best thing this side of the cosmos."

Seraphina didn't express the inexplicable admiration he was hoping she would. "It's a sloop," she stated dully.

"Well, yeah." He frowned, growing defensive over the ship he'd spent so much time and energy in over the course of his life. It was given to him by his father as hardly anything more than a hunk of scrap metal and he, with his father's mechanical expertise, fixed it up, cleaned it off, and made it his own. He was proud of it in more ways than one. "We can't all live in a huge, marbled mansion on the Moon with a room full of enough ships you can pick a new one every day."

"We didn't have a room full of ships," she sniffed. "Some were ships, some were other vehicles."

Huffing, he rolled his eyes, waving her off towards the other side of the room. "Whatever, _princess_. Pick one of the military schooners then, see if I care."

She did, happily so.

After another check to make sure they wouldn't get caught before they got their feet off the ground, Jack was nearly ready to return to open it up until he realized something. He nearly smacked himself in the head for almost overlooking such an important detail.

"Do you have envirotech in what you're wearing?" He gestured to the clothes she wore, which were nothing like the garb the soldiers were given. It was her own, personal attire that she'd brought on board with her.

To his surprise, she grinned. "I do." When she caught the look of confusion on his face, she shrugged and smoothed out a wrinkle in the skirt she wore over black tights. "My daddy's the one who invented it. It should be obvious that I have it in most of my clothing. How else would I have gone out so often in the past?"

He didn't need anything else to decide they were ready, so with an a faint buzz of excitement, Jack opened the flight deck door and, without a moment's hesitation, the two of them were off.

It was easy to forget that there was a war going on when sailing across the Sea of Stars. An endless array of silver twinkled in striking contrast to the deep, dark void of space, like souls stuck out of time. They reached out to Jack, and Jack reached back, dipping the hand that wasn’t gripping the mast of his personal sloop and clenching his fist as if he could feel the waves of empty space through his fingers.

They grew further and further from the blindingly bright light of the _Nova_  as they dove deeper into the depths of space. Jack kept an eye on Seraphina, but she made sure not to stray too far away. He wore a smile that he couldn't find the strength to wipe from his face, his grip on the sloop's mast growing looser the further away he got.

Slowly, his grip broke away completely, and he flipped upside down, gravity being the only thing holding him to his ship. He gave a loud, cheerful whoop as his chest swelled with a feeling he couldn't describe. It was like he was floating through life on a cloud, swimming without any water to worry about drowning, being carried and catered to by the whims of the waves he swore he could feel, if only barely. Below him was a space ray, its back blending with the rest of the universe that surrounded it. Grabbing the bottom of his sloop, Jack spun himself back upright and flew down towards it, laughing as the ray twisted around him, showing off the pale underside of its belly. He reached out towards it, the tips of his fingers only barely brushing the soft flesh, before the creature carried on.

When he closed his eyes, all he could see were the stars. There were no shadows, no dream pirates, no risks or responsibilities. He could believe, if only for the moment, that he was a part of it all, that his bones were constructed of condensed stardust, and solar lights ran through his veins in the place of blood. When the universe was so vast, he felt so small, so insignificant, so at peace.

 _Maybe_ , he thought, _I can return here someday._

"Jack!" When he peaked opened his eyes, he saw Seraphina watching him from a short distance away, an amused expression on her face. "I thought you fell asleep."

Again, he laughed, and he almost didn't recognize the sound of it. "Who's sleeping?" Grabbing the mast, he closed his sails. "How about a race?" He knew there was no chance of his personalized sloop being quicker than a military schooner, but he was excited for it anyway.

Seraphina took the challenge, grinning as she closed her own. "You're on."

Without even calling start, Jack flew off ahead of her, laughing as she called after him that she wasn't ready yet. It didn't take long for her to catch up, and when she did, rather than try to race her to an invisible finish line, he did a loop-d-loop over her head, feeling like a child again as he spun around in the other direction and shouted for her to catch him. He could almost forget all the hardships that had befallen him, all the tragedies that left so many scars on his life, all the ink he'd spilled inside himself, and just _be_  for a time. It'd been too long since he just allowed himself to live without worrying about the consequences of doing so.

It was too soon when Jack knew he had to face reality again and return to the airship. Dinner was nearly over and he couldn't risk someone wandering down to the flight deck when he and Seraphina returned, so it was with a heavy heart that he waved her back towards the _Nova_.

The moment they landed, Seraphina was hopping off her schooner and rambling off how exciting it had been to go out again. As Jack placed _Frost_  back where it belonged, he traced his fingers over the words carved into the bronze and smiled.

"Jack?" When he looked up, Seraphina was suddenly at his side, frowning. "What's wrong?"

It was then that he realized his cheeks were wet with tears. Touching them lightly, Jack let out a shocked laugh. "Nothing's wrong," he assured her, smiling so wide his cheeks began to ache. "I'm happy."

Just as he rose to his feet to close off the flight deck, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, a voice broke loudly through the otherwise silent room, startling both of them. "What is the meaning of this?"

It could have been _anyone_ , any single person aboard the _Nova_ , but it _had_  to be Pitch who caught them. The General stormed past both of them to slam his hand against the panel on the wall that opened and closed the flight deck door. Jack didn't need to see the molten metal in his gaze to know the amount of trouble he was in, if his memory was anything to go by. Even though it felt like such a long time ago since Pitch last snapped at Jack for admitting to his secret adventures outside the airship, he knew the General hadn't changed his policies one bit on the matter.

Still, even though he was able to steel his nerves as Pitch approached him, Jack couldn't help but feel a familiar pang of resentment towards the other man's anger. Maybe he _had_  gone against protocol, maybe he _had_  done something that deserved punishing, but by no means should Pitch have the right to snap at him in the way he was readying himself to. Didn't they already have that discussion? They weren't equals in rank, but they were equals in every other way besides.

As soon as Pitch began to speak, Jack quickly spoke over him, trying his best to calm his nerves. "Before you go off, let me e-"

" _Silence_."

Jack's jaw snapped shut in shock. He'd been expecting a lecture, of course, perhaps even some heated words, something that would resemble Pitch fulfilling his duties as General, but there was something in his tone just then that struck Jack down to his very core. It didn't feel the same as it did all that time ago when Pitch snapped at him for his off-handed confession; it didn't even feel the same as the time he interrogated him as a traitor. There was more than charcoal fanning the flames behind Pitch's gaze.

"You took her off the airship!" It wasn't a question, it wasn't an observation. It was an accusation. "Do you understa- No, I don't need to ask that. You do understand the hazards of leaving this ship of your own volition without permission and yet you _chose_  to do it anyway."

Pitch stepped forward and Jack, to his own surprise, took a step back. He backed away from one of the very few people in the entire universe he knew, without a doubt or an ounce of hesitance, that he could trust with his life. The second his foot tapped the ground behind him, his breath caught in his throat, a cold sweat freezing his veins. Something bad was happening, something worse than the worst case scenario he envisioned, something that brought an unwelcome, unsettling ice crawling back under his skin, something that stabbed his heart with needles that made it too hard for him to breathe, so he simply stopped doing so.

He wondered if it was his vision playing tricks on him, or if Pitch was truly looming so terribly over him, casting a shadow ready to swallow him whole and spit out the leftover bits of his bones. Jack felt shrunk down, small on the inside and the out, and he didn't know what to do about it besides catch small, fleeting breaths and listen to Pitch's words pound darkly against his ears.

Pitch spoke through his teeth, his voice dangerously low, and yet still plenty loud enough to resound throughout the empty flight deck. "If you wish to throw your own life away to whatever dangers await you out there, be my guest, Overland, but you will not bring my daughter down with you." Suddenly, he was gripping the front of Jack's shirt. There wasn't even a hint of the romance that once lied within the movement, only malice. "I was supposed to be able to trust you with her."

 _That_  was it. _That_  was the change. That time around, it wasn't about being a General. This wasn't simply a superior officer scolding someone lower in rank for going against protocol, for breaking some petty rules. This was about a father who'd lost the love of his life to the shadows, who just saw the life of his most precious person flash before his eyes for the second time in his life, which was two times too many. Seraphina would always come before everyone else, even if it was Jack.

And it hurt. It hurt to physical _feel_  the loss of Pitch's trust. It was in the way he gripped his shirt so tightly, knuckles white, in the way his eyes held no remorse, no sympathy for the one he'd kissed too many times to recount, in the way his heart did not beat for anyone but himself, and his own, and Jack was not that in that category, not in that moment, not anymore.

Jack was a _threat_.

Outside the barren world they'd built around themselves came a small voice. "Dad-"

Only briefly removing his gaze from Jack's own, Pitch snapped at the daughter he was so adamantly defending. "Don't speak." Returning his attention to the one crumpled and silent in his fists, the one shaken and awaiting the news that his world had, indeed, begun falling around him, Pitch once again spoke. His tone was level, only barely, his words crystal clear with the few inches between them. "You will not be her guardian any longer. She will be with me at all times. You are not permitted to speak to her. You are not permitted to be in the same vici-"

Pitch cut himself off with a sudden jolt, dropping the grip he had on Jack's shirt in his surprise. Standing at his side, sword out and aimed at her father's abdomen, was Seraphina. Her expression was not calm, her brows knit together and her lower lip quivering, as if it was taking all her efforts not to burst into tears. Despite the overwhelming onslaught of despair threatening to drown him in a wave too large to swim away from, Jack still felt the subconscious desire to hug her, to rub her back, to tell her that whatever it was, it was going to be alright. He swallowed.

Before Pitch could snap at her a second time, Seraphina spoke, her voice surprisingly level despite how she looked. She really was too strong for her age. "You don't get it." Her gaze, her sword, and her words were aimed at her father. "You don't get a say because you don't _get_  it!"

Pitch's lips pursed tightly together. The initial fury had subsided, but the storm within him had yet to calm. "Seraphina, this isn't a game."

"Stop!" She jabbed him again with the tip of her blunted fencing sword. His eyes flared up, but she pushed on. "You don't get to talk to Jack that way! You don't get to decide if he's my guardian anymore! He did this for me. He did this for me because he knew it was what I wanted more than anything else in the world. He knew because he _understands_."

She was panting hard, nearly breathless with the effort it took for her to push past her fears of her father's parental disapproval to say her piece. It was important. "You're never around! You leave me alone for months, sometimes a whole year at a time, and only see me for a couple of days, and then you leave again. And we finally- I thought we would finally get to be together up here. I thought it would be better this way, but it's not! You're still too busy! You're too busy protecting me to be _with_  me!"

Pitch's expression softened considerably as he took in the weight of his daughter's words. Jack thought he could see a flash of regret cross his features, but he may have just imagined something he was hoping for. "Sera-"

"I'm not done," she ground out, her teeth clenched together. Her grip on her sword was a shaky one, but she stood her ground. Tears had begun to spill down her cheeks and still, she spoke through them. "Jack's always there for me. Even if he's busy, or feeling bad, or if it's something that will get him hurt, he's still with me, he'll still do anything I ask him to do. He _is_  a good guardian. He's the best guardian I've ever had because he's _there_. He's there when when mommy's not, when grandma and grandpa aren't, when _you're_  not!" She strode purposely forward, stepping in-between Jack and her father, facing the latter with an unwavering gaze full of tears. She dropped her arm to her side, the sword falling with a clatter to the floor at her feet. "You used to be like that." Her voice had fallen with her posture, small once again, wavering, but still strong. "You used to understand what I wanted most."

When she finished, she drew her hands up, acting as a wall that Pitch would have to get through to reach Jack.

Jack was motionless, his bones creaking with the effort it took to breathe. He was afraid to move, afraid to speak, afraid to break the heavy silence that had fallen over the three of them. Just a moment before, he was _certain_  that everything he'd put so much time, and effort, and blood, and tears into was over. He'd seen the bridge between him and Pitch corrode and break away into a river rushing it away, bit by bit. He felt the loss of what little he had left to hold onto, of one of the last things he had left holding him to that world, that allowed him to wake up each morning, that let him move each foot forward despite everything else that threatened to crush him under its weight.

It was gone.

But now, there was a _possibility_. Now, he waited with bated breath for another chance.

Pitch spoke. "You're right." He said it softly, convincingly, unhappily. "I..." The words were hard to find, so he took a moment to search for them. They were somewhere buried deep, deep down behind a door he hadn't touched in a long time.

Pitch met with Jack's gaze, silvery drops of dew shaking ponds of breakable blues. "I'm sorry." His expression was complicated as he shook his head and took a step forward. When Seraphina didn't let him through, his gaze fell to her instead. "I'm sorry," he repeated. He kneeled down to her level, reaching out to brush locks of her ebony hair back behind her ear. "I always spent my time worrying about what I could do that's best for you that I never once thought to ask what it is you even wanted." He dropped his hand away, drawing back a margin, giving her room to come to him if she ever thought to forgive him. "When your mother died, you were all I had left. If something were to happen to you, I wouldn't-" He sighed. "I was selfish, wasn't I? I never took your feelings into account when considering my own."

In response, Seraphina reached up and slapped him lightly on the cheek. Through her tears, she smiled and threw her arms around his neck. He held her close, looking reluctant when she pulled away too soon. "I missed you," she whispered.

"I know," he apologized, wiping the tears from her cheeks with a swipe of his thumb. He even smiled at her, one to reflect her own. "Anymore, I sound like your mother. She used to hate it when you went out on your own, but after all this time, you've become so much more dependent than I ever realized, enough so to know how to take care of yourself. Because I haven't paid enough attention to you, I never noticed, but," his gaze flicked upwards for a moment, "I suppose there was someone who did."

When Pitch rose, Seraphina slowly stepped out of the way, looking hesitant to do so. She picked up her sword from the ground and held it loosely in her hand, possibly just in case things went from bad to worse again.

Jack was a hurricane of feelings trying to scream over top of one another. When Pitch stepped towards him, he didn't step back that time, relieved by his lack of action. He was going to stand his ground, although he wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel. He understood that Pitch was afraid for his daughter's life, that Seraphina was all he had left. He understood that she came before everything else. He understood that, if necessary, for her sake, Pitch was absolutely willing to cut off all ties with Jack, that he had the ability to do so in a heartbeat, without a second thought. He knew that. He'd learned that.

How disposable he felt.

A simple apology would not be enough, but he didn't know what else he was hoping for. He didn't know what would help to fix the damage caused.

"I acted brashly, against my better judgement," Pitch began, tone soft, like a dim light at the end of a tunnel. Jack stood still within the walls, neither walking back the way he came, nor going towards that light. "When Onyx died, Seraphina was all I had left. She was all that mattered to me—not my crew, not the shadows, not a mission, or friends, or any other family. Everything I did, I did with her in mind, and still, I made too many mistakes along the way. Even now I'm making mistakes. Just now, I nearly made the worst mistake of my life."

Jack was hesitant to meet his gaze, his throat dry, his eyes wet. He wanted to be hopeful, but he was too afraid to give himself that chance to fail another time. Luckily, Pitch was far from finished. "I told myself there would never be anyone else who could ever replace her, and nobody ever will, but you, Jack, are not a replacement. You're your own person and I've nearly ruined you too many times to count." Jack froze at Pitch's feathery touch softly brushing against his cheek. "You mean something to me. You are something I've gained. I not only have Seraphina, but you, as well."

The ice in Jack's veins melted so quickly at those words that the shock brought a gasp out of him. His eyes were wide as he met with Pitch's gaze, desperately searching for the sincerity within them. He saw no lies, no hesitance, only warmth, only love. There wasn't an ounce of the malevolence he'd seen in them before, but still, he couldn't help but ask, "How can I believe you?"

Immediately, he regretted asking. Already, by the way Pitch subtly recoiled from the sudden words, the first ones Jack had spoken throughout the entire ordeal, he could feel himself building up a wall when all he wanted to do was allow himself to let Pitch in. Only, he was afraid. He was afraid because Pitch had, just moments before, been so genuinely ready to cut off all ties with him, had forcibly taken his trust back. And now he was trying to give it back, just like that? What he said meant a lot, it meant _everything_ , if only Jack could be _sure_  it was true. He didn't have the strength left in him to fall for something so hard. If he was going to reach for the light at the end of the tunnel, he had to make sure it wasn't another fire.

In Pitch's softened gaze, he seemed to understand. He reached for Jack's hands, squeezing them in his own. "You have every right to question me after all the wrongs I've put you through. Time and time again you've made me think in a way that I'd never even considered. You've not only protected my daughter with everything, you've gone above and beyond your duties as a guardian. You've given her what I have not. You have more than proven yourself as worthy of my trust." He released one of Jack's hands to once against brush his cheek, gathering his gaze to his own. "If anything, I am the one worthy of mistrust. The things I just said to you were completely out of line. I spoke out of fear, but I was wrong. I didn't mean what I said.

"However," he smiled, just barely, "I mean every word I'm saying now. Whether or not you choose to believe me is up to you."

He did. He _did_  believe him. It hurt to put that trust him him again, but Jack couldn't help but fall into his arms again, couldn't help the smile that spread across his face at the warmth eating away at the ice threatening to consume him. It was more than just believing him because it was what he wanted to do. It was the words Pitch said, and the way he'd said them, that struck Jack deep down inside.

He was important.

He was loved.

"Yeah," Jack laughed, choked and high-strung, "I believe you."

"Seraphina," Pitch said, not looking away from the man who stood before him, "why don't you go clean yourself up? There's a latrine nearby."

Seraphina sniffed and gave a nod. Jack caught her smile out of the corner of his eyes. She turned away and was soon out of the room, leaving Pitch and Jack alone.

The moment the door slid shut behind Seraphina, Pitch was reaching forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Jack's smaller form and holding him close. At first, Jack's arms simply swung limp at his sides. He closed his eyes and took in the sensation of being hugged by someone he felt so deeply for, by someone who felt so deeply for him. It was warm.

He hugged him back, curling his fingers in the fabric of Pitch's shirt as he tried his best to pull himself closer. From where his head rested against the General's shoulder, he could hear the faint beating of Pitch's heart, thumping quickly, but quietly. Despite its pace, it felt calm somehow, and Jack allowed his eyes to shut long enough to catch the breath he'd lost in the panic he'd had before. He was so afraid he'd lost him. He was so afraid.

"Pitch," he began, pulling away to look him in the eyes, "last night, you asked me why I've been avoiding you."

Raising a curious brow at the sudden change in subject, Pitch gave a slight nod, silently encouraging him to continue. "I did."

It was a risk, Jack knew. It was a risk to say those words that he'd had to fight himself to keep from saying. It was a risk to say them and wait for a reply, to expect one, to hope for the best when there was still a chance of getting the worst. It was a risk, but by then, after all of that, it was one he was willing to take, he decided.

He took a deep breath, let it out, stepped away, and gathered his nerves. Just as his mouth opened to let the words flow-

The room filled with a consistent flash of red. Both of their gazes turned upwards towards the red lights above them before falling back down to meet with one another, as if they both needed to confirm that what they were seeing was really happening. Their breaths physically caught in each of their throats, their eyes growing wide, years of training falling into place all at once just as it had so many times before, in so many other similar situations.

There was an emergency.

Pitch was the first to speak. "Sera-"

"I've got her," Jack confirmed. "I've got her. Go check the status."

With a nod, Pitch gave Jack a briefly shared smile, a silent vow of trust, before rushing off to see about the emergency. Jack was quick to follow, darting off in the other direction to find Seraphina. He would not lose that trust again. He would not lose _anything_  again. Not again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh, looks like we're about to get into some more action! I know it's been a little while since we had anything like that.
> 
> Did I ever mention that Pitch's daughter's real name is Emily Jane? I knew that long before I started this, but I like Seraphina so much more that I couldn't resist using it instead.
> 
> I'll give you all a head's up: there's two chapters left. :O This has been a wonder to write! Thank you all for your comments and kudos!!


	27. Chapter 27

“And then the dream breaks into a million tiny pieces. The dream dies. Which leaves you with a choice: you can settle for reality, or you can go off, like a fool, and dream another dream.”

— _Nora Ephron, Heartburn_

\--

 _Shadows_.

They poured up from the floors and down from the ceilings, in through the walls and encased the soldiers on board on each side. It was still another hour before curfew, so there shouldn’t have been very many people lying in their beds asleep. The risk of losing anyone to sleep walking was low unless things got risky and people started falling at the ghastly hands of the Fearlings. Jack wasn’t interested in anyone he bumped into in the corridors on the tenth level. He had his sword out, holding it so tightly in his hands that his knuckles were stark white as he slashed through each shadow as it came. They were easier to defeat than the last time they were aboard, only because they were made of sand the time before, but they were trickier without it. They could form through the walls this time around, show up out of nowhere, hold their victims by their feet while others hacked them down. It was a dangerous situation.

Seraphina was alone. The nearest latrine was on that level, a floor up from the flight deck. He could only hope she hadn’t fled somewhere else when the emergency lights started going off. Then again, simply not being able to find her wasn’t his worst concern. What he feared most was finding her _too late_. She had spunk and she had speed, but she was messy with a sword and lacked the training real soldiers did. She may be able to hold her own in some situations, but not the one occurring then. There were too many risks. She would need to be taken to safety—if there was even a place like that on board.

Just before he could turn into the latrine, smoky claws closed in on Jack’s shoulders. As he moved to tear them off, above all the noise of struggles and fighting going on around him, he could hear a whispering close in his ear.

“ _Jaaaaaacksoooon._ ”

With a shout, he shook the Fearlings off before they could break through the material of his casual garb, thinner than the uniforms they were meant to wear in those situations. There were chills racing down his spine as the hissing memory stuck to him, the words ringing loud and clear within his mind even though the two shadows were silent now. There was no ignoring that they’d said his name. Did they remember him from the time he spent in his mother’s lair? Were they after some sort of revenge for killing their precious vessel and making them weaker?

Shaking his head, Jack straightened his back and tore the blade of his sword through the necks of the horrid creatures, watching with little relief as their bodies disappeared in clouds. It was rare for the shadows to actually make a direct attack on the airship itself, especially with the light acting as a barrier to keep them at bay, which was why it was so strange to see them there at all. He’d _just_  been outside the ship a handful of minutes before their attack and he’d [i]seen[/i] the camouflage up, clear as day. It should have been impossible for them to find entrance onto the _Nova_.

It wasn’t his job to worry about that, though. His job was to find and protect Seraphina at any and all costs. She was his main priority. As far as he was concerned, she was his only priority. Pitch was on board this time, and so was Irra. It was their job to find a solution to the overall problem, not his. Besides, there was no use in trying to freeze them again. It may have proved effective the last time around, but that was when they had sand holding their forms together. Sandy wasn’t at their disposal anymore, so they were back to their usual, shadowy states, hard to get a grip on unless they were purposely making themselves tangible.

Backing into the latrine, Jack only turned when he was sure there weren’t any shadows following him inside. He scanned the stalls, quickly shoving each door open until he reached the last. When the last door slammed against the back of the stall, Jack felt breathless finding it empty. There were no other places to hide or take cover. There were no vents to crawl into and certainly no windows to climb out of. She wasn’t in there.

“Shit.” He let out a heavy sigh, trying to pull himself together. “Fuck.” It wouldn’t do him any good to panic, not when he still had a job to do. There were a million things on his mind, each and every individual thought, and worry, and fear threatening to take hold and swallow him whole through a darkened gaping maw, but he couldn’t allow that to happen. There was a time to panic and there was a time to act. Then was the time to act. “Keep moving.”

The tenth level was where the cabins for the Privates and Private First Class’s were located, as well as the muster station down the hall by the stairs. He would have to go through each unlocked cabin until he found her. The thought of her hiding in one of them sent his fear skyrocketing. The shadows weren’t the most intelligent of creatures, but they had a memory, however limited it may be. They knew where the soldiers slept, so the cabins were always their first place tp attack whenever they came aboard an airship, hoping to feed off the nightmares given to sleeping soldiers or drive them into sleepwalking and attacking their friends.

There was too little time to lose, so he started at the first room, checking each cabin on either side of the corridor and carelessly bursting into the ones that were open. For every minute he spent away from Seraphina, there was the possibility of her getting hurt. It wasn’t just that she could get infected with their poison, but she was still young enough to get taken away by one of those wretched creatures. They could make her into one of their own, just as they’d done with Olivia, and he and Pitch would never see her again. It was as good as marking her death.

It wasn’t until he reached the third-to-last cabin on the left, the one next to his own, that he heard an odd, eerie giggling. It sounded so much like a little girl’s that he pushed the strangeness aside and went rushing into the thankfully unlocked cabin. Breathless, Jack crept carefully into the room, sword out, ready to attack anything that dared burst out at him. At first glance, the room seemed empty, but he was sure he’d heard the noise coming from that room. He couldn’t see anybody sleeping in the bed, so to make sure, he pulled back the covers and fell back with a shock as a high-pitched, child-like laughter filled the room. It cut short when he stabbed the shadow making the sound in the midst of his surprise, but the laughter picked up again as two more spilled out from under the bed, just like the monsters in the stories parents read to their children.

It was then, as the sword-baring Nightmare Men, taller and sturdier than the Fearlings, backed him into a wall, that Jack realized where he recognized the sound. They were mimicking the giggling doll he’d used against them the last time they got aboard the ship. If he didn’t know any better, it seemed almost passive aggressive in the way they were doing it, as if they not only realized they’d been tricked by that doll’s sound, but that he was the one who’d fooled them.

The one to his left struck its heavy sword down over his head, but Jack ducked out of the way as it dug a gash into the metal wall he’d left behind. As he ducked, he stabbed through the right one’s abdomen, dragging his sword as he slid away from the corner he’d trapped himself in and sighing once the nightmarish being disappeared, leaving one behind. Shadows were not talented fighters. They used their massive numbers to get the upper hand on their enemies, so it was better to go at them one-on-one than to get trapped within a group of them. There was a limited amount of room to move around in, so Jack found himself trying to put distance between him and the Nightmare Man before going to attack it so that it didn’t get a lucky hit on him.

The Nightmare Man tore through the mattress and made more than a few marks on the metal walls around them. Every so often, an eerily familiar, repetitive giggle would form from its mouth.

Backed between the wall and the bed, Jack found that he had no other choice than to attack. As the shadow brought down its sword, he quickly held up his own, wincing under the creature’s strength as his arm began to shake. The more time he wasted there, the more painfully aware he was that Seraphina was still out there, alone, defenseless. If something ended up happening to him before he found her and got her to safety, she might never make it out of this fight alive. Even in death, he would never forgive himself.

“Will you _fuck off_  al-”

Mid-growl, a sword that was not Jack’s own drove itself clean through the shadow’s torso. As the Nightmare Man faded away, Jack sat stunned for a moment as he tried to process what happened and why he was suddenly seeing a little girl standing before him, rather than some menacing creature.

She smiled and dropped her sword to fall into his lap, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck like she was afraid of what would happen if she let go. When she pulled away, her expression went from joy to anger, her hands gripping the front of his shirt in a way that she probably thought was threatening. “Where were you!? Do you know how long I’ve been waiting in that closet!?” She pointed to the one inside the room, where she must have been hiding all that time. “I thought you were never going to find me!”

In response, Jack could only find it in himself to smile and pull her close to him again, hugging her tightly until she complained about not being able to breathe. “I was so worried,” he uttered. “Thank god you’re okay.”

After thoroughly checking her for any wounds or claw marks, Jack allowed himself to breathe. “You’re right; I took too long. I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.” He got to his feet and pulled her up with him. “We can’t stay here. The cabins are the most dangerous places to be in a time like this.”

“Where’s daddy?” she asked.

He frowned, his heart aching for her concern of her father’s safety above all else. “He’s fine,” he assured her. It was easier to convince someone of something when he was convinced of it himself. He was sure Pitch was alright. “Are you kidding? We do this kind of thing all the time. Your dad’s been at this game for years. He’s been fine before and he’s going to be fine now.” As he neared the door, he let it open and peeked around the corner, checking the condition of the corridor. There were still a few soldiers wandering around, probably rushing into their cabins to put on their uniforms, but he didn’t see any shadows. “Our job is to get you to safety. There should be-”

“No!” When he turned to look, Seraphina wore a heated expression, her gaze narrowed in determination. “I’m not letting you fight without me. I don’t need to be thrown in a crib while you’re on your own!”

Jack bit his lip. Normally, her fiery spirits were something he admired, but it wasn’t the time for it. Her safety was the ultimate concern. “Sera, that sword you have is flimsy. If a shadow gets a good hit on it, it’s going to break. If you want to help, you’ll do it best by being safe.” He took in her features, memorizing them for reasons he’s couldn’t comprehend. Perhaps, for some _“just in case”_  circumstance, but he wouldn’t allow himself to think that way. “If something happens to you, your dad and I wouldn’t be able to live with ourselves. You’re too important.”

She seemed to understand, but she didn’t look pleased about it. “Isn’t there anything I can do?” Her voice fell quiet, so much so that he had to strain to hear her over the noises echoing throughout the ship. “You’re important to me, too.”

“Sera…” His shoulders sank. He understood what she meant. She didn’t want to be stuck on the sidelines while the people she loved risked their lives, especially if they were doing it to protect her. She didn’t want to feel like a burden. He knew that if he pushed his argument, she would oblige and allow him to take her to safety, but he felt suddenly hesitant to push her into the position, even if it would be for the best. Making up his mind, Jack pushed all better judgment to the side. “There might be something we can do before I take you somewhere safe. The emergency lights are still on, which means the generators are off. If we can get down to the bilge and turn on the back-ups, your dad can probably do something about the shadows. I’ll explain on the way—we need to keep moving.”

Double-checking that the coast was clear, Jack motioned for Seraphina to follow him. They moved quickly but carefully, monitoring every direction. The shadows could come from anywhere. “There’s a defense system your dad designed to fend off the shadows if they got in the ship,” he went on. “It’s kind of like turning the camouflage inside out. They aren’t usually affected by artificial lighting, but if it’s bright enough to hurt human eyes, it’s enough to bother them. They might not all end up dying, but they definitely won’t stick around. We couldn’t use them last time since they broke everything.”

He had a few ideas of his own for fending off the shadows. Now that it posed a problem, he supposed he could have wished on Sandy to give him a portable weapon to use against them. He doubted that the star could use his powers to whisk them away back to the darkest reaches of space where they came from, but at the very least it couldn't hurt to have something to fight them with. They tried, in the past, to use custom-made flashlights, but they were always too small to fit the energy in them to create the amount of light needed to scare off the shadows.

Thankfully, there were fewer shadows on the floors beneath the cabins since there were less people down there. Once Jack and Seraphina made it down a level, they were in the clear all the way down to the bilge.

Removing the panel, Jack went down first to make sure there wasn't going to be a sudden hoard of shadows stowed away down there. When they seemed to be in the clear, he let Seraphina follow him down. He started leading her into the area where the generators were located, but a sharp banging noise made him freeze, quickly holding a hand out to keep Seraphina behind him.

It was still as dark as it ever was in the bilge, but there were a few lights along the floors that were motion activated. They faded after a handful of minutes when someone stopped moving or if they moved too far away from them. As he moved further into the room, hiding himself behind one of the shelves, Jack dared to peek his head out to see what was causing the offensive, repetitive noise. It sounded like metal banging against metal, sharp and echoing throughout the enclosed walls of the bilge. Standing there, some large object in hand, was a person, smashing the object against one of the back-up generators.

As the person turned just enough for their face to flash within the dim lights, Jack's breath caught in his throat. He only needed a moment to decide what he needed to do, his eyes narrowed and his teeth clenched.

Quietly, he spoke to Seraphina. "Go hide."

She gave him a quizzical expression, but he wasn't paying any attention. "Why? Who is that?"

"Just find a place to hide," he repeated, a little more urgent the second time around. "Don't come out, okay?" He kneeled down and made sure she could see him before speaking again. "If you come out, you'll be in danger. This will be easier for me if you're not a distraction."

"Jack- what?" Her eyes were wide. He knew he was making her worried, but this was something he needed to do and he couldn't have her getting in the way. She would be safe if she stayed out of sight. "You'll- you'll be okay, right?"

"Of course," he smiled, kissing her softly on the forehead. "I just need to deal with this. Go on, go hide."

When he was sure she'd settled in somewhere she wouldn't be easily found, Jack rose to his feet and walked out into the open, making no move to hide himself or who he was. The person was too involved in what they were doing to notice anyone approaching, the noise blocking out the sound of footsteps growing near.

Jack didn't stop until he was within reaching distance of the other person, and it was only so he could grab their wrist while it was in the air, twisting it painfully to the side so the weapon they held hit the ground with a loud clanging. The person shouted both from pain and surprise, turning to strike his offender until he realized who it was. They stood still for a moment, eyes blinking the darkness away as if they were afraid of being mistaken. When they confirmed Jack was who they thought he was, they snorted and yanked their arm out of his grip, putting distance between them.

"Well, I can't say I'm surprised," they drawled. "Overland, right? Am I pronouncing it right? Should I do the bit about having you walk past me again or should we count ourselves soul mates right now, considering this is what, nearing the hundredth encounter? Or am I exaggerating?"

"Cas," Jack snapped, "do you ever shut the hell up or do you just love the sound of your own voice? Why don't you and your fake, frosted bangs go off and marry each other?"

Cas feigned offense. "Oh, how could I commit such a crime against my own betrothed?" He wrinkled his nose, looking like he wanted to spit the disgusting words out of his own mouth. He reached for the metal object he was using before, but Jack kicked it away from him. Angrily, Cas threw his hands up. "What are you doing here? Of all the fucking people on the god damn vessel, what are _you_  doing here?"

"That should be-"

"Don't say it," he interjected, eyes flaring. "Don't you fucking say that tired line, Overland. I know you're chock-full of them, but I'm not in the mood to hear it." He took a step forward, and another, stopping only when he realized Jack wasn't backing away from him. There wasn't any need for it as far as Jack was concerned. From what he could tell, Cas had no weapon, no source of protection, while he carried a sword, one he wasn't afraid to use if need be. "Fine; you want answers? I'll give them up if it'll get you out of my sight any sooner."

Jack felt like that was too easy. Of course, Cas could simply be acting because he saw the obvious outcome of the situation if he tried to go against Jack's wishes, but he'd never made anything easy before, so it felt disconcerting that he would act that way then. There was no arguing, no rambling to beat around the bush, no attempts to get the upper-hand, nothing. Just a simple, silent admission of defeat and an agreement to give what was wanted out of him. Maybe he really had started to lose himself with all that time he spent in confinement.

"I've been out of my cell for quite a while, actually," Cas went on. "It's not like I _asked_  for it. Obviously, I was just so content to be in my little cell for the remainder of my days. It does get cozy in there after a while. Tell me, Overland- in between the times when you're spreading your legs for the General, does he ever mention me? Does he ever recall putting me in confinement? Does he ever consider moving just a bit faster on the course to home or is that just the furthest thing from mind when he's got his top dog lapping his dick at the snap of a finger?"

Jack's cheeks burned at the lewd remarks. He shifted uncomfortably, thankful for the darkness concealing most of his expression. He didn't say a word about it, finding it too hard to tell if Cas was just making the comments to put Jack on edge, or if he was doing it because he knew the truth.

"Anyway," Cas continued, acting as if he hadn't just spoken so aggressively, "the Lieutenant acting as my guard practically handed the key card over to me, just like that. It would've been rude to say no." Jack had a feeling that wasn't exactly the truth, but he was afraid if he interrupted, Cas would quit his explanation. "I've been out quite a few times on my own, doing a little bit here and there. You know, nothing big, not all at once, nothing anyone would ever notice until it was too late." He spread his arms out as if to imply that the moment they were in was the one that came too late.

Cas had an annoying way of talking in a round-about way, spilling the truth without exactly giving any details. He always made the listener figure out what it was he was talking about. Jack more of a man of action than he was for words and he knew that every moment he wasted on Cas was a moment he could have spent on figuring out a way to save the ship, or at least by being in the action to help anyone else who needed it. Seraphina was, at least, safe as long as she stayed in hiding, but he didn't know how long that would last. They couldn't stay down there forever, and Cas seemed to know that. It was in the way his lips curved, like there was a secret hiding behind the confidence he was in no position to have.

Jack was in no mood to screw around. "Why are you breaking the generators?"

Cas barked a laugh and Jack saw red flash across his vision without the need of emergency lights. "There's the idiot side of the savant!" Cas patronized. "Come on, Overland, you have to know this already. I know the exact reason you came down here. I know you wanted to turn on the back-up generators so your fatherly fuck-buddy can save the day."

Ignoring the comment, Jack motioned to the machines beside them. "You knew they would help and you broke them anyway? Why?"

"'Why,'" Cas repeated, dragging out the time. By the look on his face, he knew exactly what it was doing to Jack's short-fused temper. "Maybe the reason 'why' has a little something to do with the fact that this ship, and everyone on it, isn't worth saving. Maybe it's because I _want_  this ship to fall. I want it to fall with every forsaken wretch who turned against me on board. None of them believed me when I labeled you for what you are, you traitor! Instead, they wondered if it was me. Somehow, someway, you still managed to twist my words around to make _me_  look like the bad guy!" He pointed an accusing finger at Jack, who only stared back at him with a blank, almost pitying expression. " _You_  are the one who brought the shadows on board this ship! _You_  are the reason we're always in danger!"

"Cas," Jack sighed, feeling more tired than angry anymore, "isn't it about time you got over that? You don't have any proof that I'm the reason the shadows ever came on board. You don't have any proof that I'm a traitor."

"Ohh, Overland. I got the proof I needed." The soldier recomposed himself, eerily calm after having been so unkempt just a moment before. "But I don't care anymore if anyone wants to hear it. I have nothing to show them, anyway. They can all die for all I care, every last one of them."

"And Jé?"

His eyes narrowed, his voice darkened. "Even her."

After all Millie had done for him, after all she'd put up with, all she'd gone through, when she could have easily left him on his own the moment he started acting up instead of wasting her time cleaning up the messes he got himself into, Jack was angry to hear Cas so casually wish her life away. She wasn't just his sister, she'd been his caretaker as well. She'd gone through so much more than necessary just for _his_  sake, just because she loved him, and still he had the nerve to shove her under the sole of his shoe? Still, he could stand there and say, with a straight face, that he didn't care what became of her life, when that was all Millie had ever cared about when it came to him?

Jack was done. There was an emergency going on around them. He didn't have the time to waste listening to a crazed man spew insults at him. Giving no warning, he moved, quickly lashing out with the hilt of his sword raised above his head, readying to crack it against Cas's skull. He wasn't going to kill him, but it would be a lie to say that it wasn't a thought that'd crossed his mind.

An inch from Cas's unflinching form, Jack was stopped. A darkness, deeper than the shallow shroud that filled the room, wrapped itself around his arm and violently pulled him back. Before he could yank his arm free, three more grabbed at his ankles, two held his other arm in place. There were shadows holding him in place, too many of them for him to try and break free on his own.

An unnaturally loud laugh broke through the quiet humming of the room's machinery, irritating Jack's ears. Cas stood there, feet away, smiling. He was as calm as ever in the face of the shadows, limbs free, without a weapon to defend himself with. And he was smiling, still smiling. It was a dangerous thing to see.

Jack felt himself freeze without the tight hold of the shadows. He felt too enclosed, trapped with no way out in sight. His sword was still in his hand, gripped tightly so he wouldn't accidentally drop it, but it was useless when he couldn't move his limbs to strike down his enemies. A foggy, congested feeling gathered within him, warning him that he needed to get out of there, that he needed to get to some sort of surface, some sort of open area before he lost sight of himself. This was not the time for it, but it was certainly the place. _Trapped_.

"Surprised?" Cas quipped, as chipper as ever. He looked as if they were simply having a few drinks at lunch, carrying on a casual conversation about any old thing. "I'd introduce you to my friends, but I know you've already become plenty well acquainted already, seeing as how you've all worked together, the little traitor that you are."

Jack felt himself breathing heavily, as if air was suddenly too hard to come by. He was painfully aware that they were on the very bottom level of the ship, with just a few layers of metal keeping him from being sucked out into the empty, freezing void of space.

But he tried not think about that.

"Cas," he tried to keep his tone level, "tell me this isn't what you've been working on all this time." He felt worn, growing even moreso by the sight of that smile carved into Cas's silhouetted features. He didn't need a response to know the truth. "You- you brought them on board?" He tried to free an arm, but the shadows held tight. "You did this? You let them in here? You're just going to let them bring us all down?"

He felt himself breathing too heavily and had to pause to catch his breath, wanting to crumple to his knees, wanting to curl into himself and wish it was all a dream, but there wasn't any time for it. Bad things were happening and he was at the source of it all, looking it straight in its murky green gaze.

"Why?" He practically wheezed it. The room seemed darker, but he wasn't sure if it was filling with shadows or if it was just his imagination getting the better of him. "Why are you doing this?"

A frown flashed across Cas's face for too fleeting a moment. Jack wondered if he'd just imagined that, too. "'Why'?" The traitor barked a laugh. "I told you why already! Because nobody would believe _me_  over _you_ , because they all went flocking to your side when _I_  was in the right, because nobody, not even my own _sister_  was willing to even _listen_  to me for one second! Because everyone thought I was crazy! Because they all thought I was such a dangerous criminal that I needed to be _confined_ \- and then they _forgot_  about me! You all forgot about me! And you!" He jabbed an accusing finger painfully into Jack's chest, eyes blazing with flames that could light the darkened room, that could melt the glaciers in Jack's eyes and drown him in the aftermath. "You have always been the worst of them all. You are the prime reason to it all, to everything bad that's ever happened to me! Everyone keeps saying it's my fault, but I _know_  it's not! Everything was _fine_  until you came on board! _I hate you_!"

He calmed, like the eye of a storm, with winds still whipping around them. "I hate you." It was a fact, as simple as the time of day, or the stars in space. It was sure, and constant, and true.

Although it seemed like he had more to say, Cas didn’t continue right away. Instead, he picked up the large wrench he’d been using before to hack away at the generators, weighing it in his hands. “You know,” he started, voice low, “I was going to let them have their way with you right off the bat, but I think I’d like one more favor before everything goes to shit.” He waved his free hand at the shadows. “You’ll have your fun in a minute.” When they didn’t let go, he glared. “Wouldn’t it be better to exhaust him first? Let me have this.”

They seemed to consider it before deciding that whatever Cas was saying made some sort of sense. Soon enough, the grip on Jack’s limbs loosened and fell away. As the shadows gave him room, Jack had to fight to keep his balance. He took a deep breath in, savoring it while it was still there to have. He hardly had a chance to count his stars before he found himself narrowly dodging a heavy wrench nearly smashing into his face. Shocked, he stumbled backwards, nearly tripping over his own feet as Cas took quick strides towards him.

“I’m going to ruin you, Overland,” Cas swore. “This will be my last act of redemption before we all go down.”

“Cas-”

The wrench swung by him again, just scraping his shoulder. “Shut up! _Shut up_! I’m so sick of your voice!”

 

There was no arguing with him, no convincing him out of the madness he’d fallen into. If he had any time to, Jack would have felt sad over the depravity of someone who could have once been considered a good soldier. He would have been sad remembering Millie’s words, that it didn’t use to be this way, that Cas used to be different, that he used to be better, that there was ever a time the man signed himself up to be part of a good cause. But now that man was throwing a wrench in his direction with all his strength, aiming to harm him, aiming to bring him down.

Jack fled.

He knew Seraphina was still in that room, but she was hidden. As long as she stayed quiet and didn’t leave her hiding place, she should’ve been safe from the shadows lurking in the bilge. He didn’t have a chance to fight Cas with his sword in such close quarters, not when the man was hauling around a heavy wrench. If it hit his sword, it surely would have been knocked out of his hands, and then he would be defenseless. So he ran. He pulled himself out of the bilge and continued down the corridor, feeling Cas hot on his heels. There were a few times that Jack felt the breeze of the wrench barely brushing the back of his hair, or tapping his shoulder. Even in the subtle brushes, he could feel the weight of the weapon, and knew that if it ever had a chance to hit him full on, he wouldn’t escape from a second blow, or a third, or more there after.

Jack didn’t make it far before he found himself trapped, backed into the empty muster station. On the upper floors, he could hear the continual sounds of struggles as soldiers fought against the shadows. During the flashes of red, he caught glimpses of bodies scattered about the room, some near, some far. He could only hope they were unconscious, but something told him they weren’t so lucky.

“Cas,” he breathed, sword raised against the heavy wrench still aimed towards him, “you’re not- not thinking clearly. We need to have a talk. I don’t know what you want from me- an apology? Is that what you want?”

“Oh, it’s much too late for that, Overland.”

The wrench came down over his head and Jack barely managed to duck as it slammed against the wall above him. Acting quickly, Jack took the risk of dropping his sword to grab Cas’s arm with one hand and punch him in the ribs with the other, knocking the air out of him. Twisting his arm, the wrench fell out of the other man’s grip, clanging heavily to the ground next to Jack’s sword. He continued to twist until the bones in Cas’s wrist began to creak with concern. He dropped to his knees on the ground, angrily shouting all the curses he could recall. Just to make sure he wouldn’t try anything again, Jack kicked him firmly in the stomach and dropped his arm, kicking the wrench across the room, out of sight, out of mind.

To his surprise, Cas laughed. It was strangled and pained, but a laugh nonetheless. “I bet you think you’ve got the upper-hand, don’t you?” He remained on the ground, ignoring the look of concern and confusion crossing Jack’s face as he breathed out another shaky laugh. “You’re forgetting that I am in charge here.”

Again, shadows leaked out from the ceiling, from the floors, even from the wall behind him, and held Jack close, holding tightly to his arms and legs to keep him in place. He knew he should have seen it coming, but he’d been so sure that there were no more shadows in the room when he entered that he- ...Perhaps, he knew all along that he would be captured again. In some small way, he had seen it coming, but he knew, deep down, that there was nothing he could have done to prevent it. Even if he managed to grab his sword, more would come. Jack was trapped so long as he remained on the airship, so long as the shadows were still on board with him. There was never anywhere he could have ran off to, nowhere he could have hid, nobody he could have asked for help when they were all dealing with troubles of their own. He was doomed the moment he woke up that morning, the moment he opened his eyes on the day of his birth. He was doomed, and Cas was going to tell him why.

Cas took a moment to catch his breath before rising to his feet, a satisfying expression of pain ghosting over his face. He forced it down. "Overland, do you remember what I said to you before, a long time ago? Do you remember? I said you have a tendency to make a mess out of everything. You ruin every life you infect with your presence, and you're going to be the ruin of all of those in this shit stain of a Golden Army."

He gestured to the shadows that were still holding Jack, curiously not attacking him. "Sure, you could say _I_  was the one who let them on board, who hid them away, who lead them around until they decided to unleash themselves on this god forsaken vessel. It's true. Everyone's assumptions have become truths in this very moment. I, Luke Cas, am a traitor. They can all be happy in their graves with that in mind for all I care.

"But you, Overland, I'm taking you down with me." That grin returned, toothy and filled with malice and glee. It was a horrible sight. Jack wanted nothing more than to wipe it from his hideous face. "They're here for _you_. They're here _because_  of _you_ , not me. Ultimately, even now, even after all I've admittedly done, the ruin of the _Nova_  and all on board, the General, the Captain, those buddies of yours- it’s all on _you_."

There was a strange pain backing those words, a pain that Jack felt ringing thoroughly throughout his frozen person. It was something akin to the deepest kind of guilt, to knowing that he'd caused a terrible thing.

A flash of his mother crossed his mind, bleak and bloodied and _dead_.

And still, he asked, "What do you mean?"

Cas's grin grew, as if he was hoping to hear those very words. "They want you, Overland. From what I've gathered from the nonsensical nightmares they've pushed into my head night after night, and even the mindless chatter leading my thoughts all throughout the days, I know that you ruined something that was precious to them. You took that away from them. And in return, they want _you_  as a replacement." As if to confirm, the claws gripping Jack's arms and legs tightened. He wanted to hope that they wouldn't break the skin, that their poison wouldn't turn his mind to madness a second time, but he couldn't bring himself to even consider it when there was something much worse to come. "My end of the deal was to lead them to you, to give them the orders they needed, but I'm not a good enough vessel. I'm not the one they wanted. I suppose that's because I'm not the pure at heart _bastard_  that you are.”

“Cas!” Jack felt as if he were choking, suffocating under the weight of his own fears. “You,” he took a breath while he still could, “you don’t understand what this will do! You don’t know what’s going to happen! They’ll kill you, too!”

Carelessly, Cas kicked at the sword Jack had dropped on the ground, uninterested in having it to defend himself with. “Let them do as they will.”

Taking that as their cue, the shadows holding Jack grew more aggressive, pulling at his limbs, trying to sink him into a more defenseless position. Feeling the panic rising, Jack fought against them, but it was like pulling his arms from rubber, his legs from a quicksand that sank him further the more he struggled. “Cas, you don’t understand!” he quavered. “It’s bigger than us! They’ll destroy everything! They’ll kill moons, planets, they-” One gripped his neck and squeezed, making breathing harder to come by than it already was, but he forced himself to continue. If there was any way he could get through to Cas, he had to try it. “They’ll cause genocides! Everything will _die_ , Cas!”

And still, Cas wore an almost nihilistic expression of disinterest. He was checking his nails, not even curious about the fate of the one he was willingly sending to his death. His previous rage must have faded, his attempt at revenge having been quelled by Jack’s strikes against him. There was no getting through to him.

Darkness filled the edges of Jack’s vision as he could no longer gasp for air, the claws around his throat tightening. He could only stare into the hollow eyes of the Fearling with its claws on his throat and wonder if it was the one he once thought to be his sister, if somewhere, deep, deep down, there was a little girl in there, crying out for her brother to breathe, to live when she could not. But it wasn’t death that he feared. Death was the least of his worries. He feared for Seraphina, hopefully still hidden away in the bilge, out of danger of being taken as a Fearling like so many others before her; he feared for Pitch, who might lose his daughter because the guardian he’d put his trust in had failed him a second time, two times too many; he feared for Jamie, and Grant, and Millie, and all the others who had such a high chance of dying not only because there was nothing Jack could do, but because it was his fault they were in danger at all.

He feared what he would do to them.

His mind forgot the apologies he wanted to keep as his vision faded to black, as his knees grew weak and he could no longer keep himself standing. He knew the moment he fell, it would all be over, but there was nothing he could do. There was nothing he could do.

So he fell.

In the darkness, he waited for the madness to consume him. He wondered if it would feel the same for him as it had for his mother when they took her. He wondered if he would be able to last longer than she had, or if he would only manage a handful of minutes before the shadows won. He supposed it didn’t really matter one way or another when he was going to fall in the end. He could only hope that he wouldn’t remember it after it happened, but he knew that he would.

Yet, still-

No madness came.

There were sounds breaking the edges of his fog-ridden mind. At first, Jack wondered if they were the first of the shadows’ whispers that would soon consume his thoughts, but he quickly came to realize that the sounds were not whispers. Everything felt so heavy that opening his eyes was like swimming against a current in the sea, but he forced himself to do it anyway. He was on the ground, cheek to the floor—the shadows must have dropped him when he lost the strength to hold himself up any longer, but it didn’t make any sense that they hadn’t yet taken him over like they wanted. He blinked, trying to see past the blaring red lights that flickered on and off, making everything harder to see.

There were arms on him and Jack closed his eyes again, thinking it to be the shadows. He was too weak to fight them off, so he allowed them to push him into a sitting position, lean him against the wall, and- It took him some time to realize that these were not the actions of shadows. He only realized it when his eyes were forced open by hands that were too warm against his chilly skin.

“Jack, you can’t sleep here.” The voice was familiar, soothingly so, as shaky as it was. Jack smiled. “Oh god, you’re awake. Oh thank god you’re awake.”

He wasn’t so sure about that until he felt hands on his cheeks, lightly smacking him until they began to itch and sting. He brought his heavy hands up to push the person away. They gave him enough room to allow him to open his eyes and gather his consciousness back. He couldn’t have been out very long. Really, he wasn’t sure if he’d fallen entirely unconscious at all. Probably not much longer than a brief handful of seconds.

“Jamie?” That was surely the one kneeling before him.

“Yeah, it’s me,” the voice confirmed. He felt warm hands brushing back his shirt collar, checking his body for any signs of scratch marks. As Jamie patted him down, Jack let his gaze wander nearby, where D’gell, barely visible in the blinking lights, only recognizable by his bleach blond hair, held Cas down on the ground. He turned his gaze back to Jamie. “Where did the shadows go?”

When Jamie finished with his search, he returned his hands to Jack’s face, brushing his bangs from his eyes. “We took care of them. We were only a level up by the stairs when D’gell heard shouting, so we came down to see if there was anyone still...here that needed help, and we found you being attacked by the shadows while Cas just stood there.” Even in the poor lighting, Jack could see the heated look on his face. He wanted to tell him that the look didn’t suit him. “Thank god we found you in time.” Jamie wrapped his arms around Jack, careful not to irritate any wounds he might have.

Jack leaned against the warmth of his friend’s body, allowing himself a sigh of relief. Jamie didn’t understand just how bad it could have been if he hadn’t reached him when he did. If he’d been just a few minutes late, would Jamie have been the first person Jack struck down? He shuddered to think about it.

He only allowed himself a moment, however, before patting Jamie on the shoulder and having him help him to his feet. “I can’t stay here. Seraphina’s still in the bilge. She’s hidden, but she’s still in danger. I need to get her to safety.”

“Jack, we can take care of her. You need to rest. The shadows took out everyone on this floor, so they’ve moved up. Unless they realize you’re down here, you should be safe enough.”

Shaking his head, Jack shooed him away, using the wall as his support to stay standing. “No, she’s my responsibility. I need to make sure she’s safe.”

“There is no safe,” came D’gell’s voice a few feet away. He was leaning Cas’s unconscious form up against a wall. “She’s probably better off where she is now, unless you take the escape hatch off the ship.”

“There’s a safety mechanism in Pitch’s office,” Jack explained. “It’s where the panel to turn on the emergency lights is installed. I just,” he took a breath, trying to steady himself, “I just need to get back down to the bilge. Cas was trying to destroy the back-up generators, but I think I stopped him before he could ruin the last one. I need to make sure.”

Jamie lightly grabbed his shoulder before he could go any further. “Jack, you’ve been through a lot already. You don’t have to be the hero all the time.”

“We’re soldiers too, you know,” D’gell added.

“I- I know,” Jack conceded. “Sera is my responsibility. The General is probably on one of the upper floors, keeping the shadows from reaching any of the important equipment. He needs my help.”

He tried to brush Jamie aside, but he was stopped again. Before he could tell him to get out of the way, he was surprised by another, soft, carefully given hug. Speechless, when Jamie pulled away, he allowed the brunet to speak. “Let us handle it then. We’re in a better condition, anyway. D’gell and I will fight our way up to the quarter deck to get to that safety mechanism. We’ll wait for you fix the generator so we can flash the lights and scare off the shadows. You just worry about getting Seraphina and protecting her.”

Jack was hesitant to agree, especially when there was such a thick mess of shadows they would need to fight through, but one look at Jamie’s promising face gave him hope. The guy had that way about him.

Smiling, Jack gave him a nod. “Alright, you win. Sounds like a plan.”

For a moment, Jamie’s smile fell away, melted into a deeply-sewn look of concern. “Jack, please be careful. Last time I thought I lost you. I need you here, alright? Just please, don’t be reckless.”

Jack felt himself tearing up, but swallowed them down. They weren’t in trouble, not yet. So long as they were still alive, so was their hope. He stood close to Jamie, taking in his every feature, from the crinkle in his brow, to the choppy state of his hair, to the layers of leaves in his eyes that always felt so much like autumn. He held his hands in his own, memorized the warmth of them in contrast to his own, reminded himself that that was what it felt for someone to be alive.

“I’ll be careful,” he said. It was a promise. He knew it meant the world to Jamie.

Briefly, their lips brushed together in a kiss. It was platonic, brotherly, a seal to the silent promise between them. They would come out of this alright. They had to, for all the nights they spent counting stars, for all the words they’d shared, for all the tears they’d shed, for all the love they had for each other. They had to.

They parted with no further words, Jamie and D’gell moving their way towards the upper levels of the airship while Jack moved back down. He had to reach Seraphina.

He'd only just hopped into the bilge when a pair of arms wrapped around his middle, squeezing him tight. For a moment, Jack startled, thinking it to be more shadows waiting for his return. He'd nearly attacked, his hands twitching over the child's form, but he relaxed when he realized that it was only Seraphina. It was the real her, not some disgraceful copy of her, not a shadowy version of her spirit. She was still there, right in his arms, still whole, still real, still alive. He hadn't lost. He couldn't lose.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, brushing her hair back as she pushed her face into his stomach. She wasn't crying, but he didn't doubt that she was close to tears. "I left you down here by yourself. I'm sorry, I needed to draw them away from you." Even though he knew that he would have, inevitably, been captured again after running away, all that mattered at the time was that Seraphina was kept out of harm's way. "Everything's going to be okay from now on. We have a plan."

She looked up at him. It was hard to see her expression in the dim lighting, but he smiled anyway, whether she could see it or not. "You're okay?" she asked.

Sometimes, Jack wondered if it would be better if he was alone, if he had nobody to care about him, and nobody for him to care about, but feeling her arms around him, remembering the way Pitch had kissed him less than an hour before, the warmth of Jamie's hands, and he thought that maybe it was better to be a little selfish. Maybe it was better to want others to care for him. It gave him the strength he needed to keep moving when everything was going to hell around them.

"Yeah," he told her, "I'm okay."

He ushered her around, back into the area of the room with the generators. The lights by his feet came on, giving him just enough to see by. He wasn't the best at machinery, especially complicated things like the generators, but his father taught him enough about mechanics to know the basics. If Cas hadn't broken the back-ups too much, he might be able to do something about it so Jamie and D'gell could switch on the defensive lights. He wondered if Pitch had tried it already, if he'd felt fear when he found that they weren't turning on.

Shaking that thought from his mind, Jack motioned towards the cabinets behind him. "Sera, there should be a flashlight in one of those. Can you hand me one?" As she went off to do that, he went to the cabinets leaned up against the other wall, pulling out a tool box he found in the third area he checked and bringing it back over to the generators. When Seraphina handed him the flashlight, he studied the machinery, relieved to find that they were still in good enough condition to use. They were dented on the surface, but luckily Cas hadn't had the right mind to damage the circuits.

It only took a few minutes for Jack to fix what needed tending to on the first back-up generator, hurrying to the next, and the third after that, until he finally sat back with a sigh, leaning up against a nearby wall. "That should do it," he said, motioning for Seraphina to sit beside him. "They weren't too messed up, so I managed to get them running again. When I ran out of here, I met with Jamie and D'gell. They said they'd take care of turning on the lights for us as long as I fixed the generators, so as long as nothing goes wrong, the lights should be up in just a matter of minutes." Even with the shadows getting in their way, he didn't think it should take that long for them to fight their way up to the quarter deck. If it was really bad, one of them could clear the way while the other made it through.

So Jack and Seraphina sat, and they waited.

They waited.

For every passing second, Jack felt himself growing more and more anxious, holding Seraphina's hand in his own just to keep them from shaking. There weren't any noises down where they were besides the light hum of the machinery. If the lights had come on, they would have known by then, but nothing happened. Nothing was happening. He understood that there could be some obstacles in their way of reaching the quarter deck, but not so many that it should be taking as long as it seemed to be. Maybe he was just imagining the length of time ticking by because he was sitting in a dark room with no true way to tell other than by counting the seconds in his head.

"Isn't it taking a while?" Seraphina asked, the first to break the silence.

Jack glanced over at her, biting on his lip as he scratched the nails of his free hand against his pants. So it wasn't just him who thought so. They should have been there by then. They _should_  have.

Something must have happened.

His body shook as he stood again. It wasn't in fatigue, or in pain, but fear, as all the possibilities, all the tragedies that could have occurred, went rushing through his mind like leaves in a hurricane. They could be hurt. They could be dying. Or maybe- maybe it really was too late for them all. Maybe the shadows outnumbered them too many to one this time, maybe they were too strong to fight back, too strong to defend against. Maybe they'd already lost.

Seraphina looked to him for guidance. "What do we do?" She was too strong for a child her age. While his own hands were shaking, hers were steady, tightly gripping her flimsy fencing sword as if readying for battle, a battle that may have already been over.

Jack's mouth was too dry for him to form the words right away. He didn't _know_  what to do. If all was already lost, the only option left was to run, but that would mean leaving their loved ones behind. So no, no, that wasn't an option. While he understood more than anything that he needed to keep Seraphina safe, he wasn't going to leave the _Nova_  without a fight. He wasn't going to keep sitting in wait down there for the worst to come, not when it was his fault everything was happening at all. If they wanted him, he was going to give them what they wanted.

"We're going to turn the lights on ourselves," he stated, confident. He hoped that all his assumptions were wrong, that they were only the workings of an overactive, panicked imagination. They may very well have been. "They might need our help getting to the quarter deck to turn them on." Frowning, he looked down at her. "Sera, I'd really prefer it if you stayed here, just for a little while longer. It's safer down here than it is up there."

She started to stubbornly shake her head, biting her lip before glancing away to catch her thoughts. "I don't want to be in the way, but..." She tugged on his sleeve, testing the material between her fingers. She looked tired. He hoped, for her sake, that everything would be over soon. "I don't know what will happen to you if you leave. I don't know if you'll come back. I- Please, don't leave me down here."

He understood, and because of that, despite his better judgement, Jack knew he couldn't just leave her down there, not all alone. "Alright, we'll go together, but stay by my side at all times. If a shadow even _reaches_  towards you, scream as loud as you can so I can take care of it. Your sword can cut through them, but they're stronger than you, especially the Nightmare Men. If you see anyone in trouble, or anyone who needs help, don't go running up to them. Your safety is the number one priority. Do you understand?"

She looked hesitant, but still, she squared her jaw and nodded her head. "I understand."

As they began their way out of the bilge, Jack went on, keeping his voice low in case there were any shadows around to overhear them. Although, he was pretty sure they'd cleared the lower levels and pushed everyone upwards. "We're going to try and find Jamie and D'gell first, but if we make it to the quarter deck without seeing them, then we'll keep going. If we can turn those lights on, we can clear the shadows off the ship and everything will be safe again."

"What about daddy?" she asked.

"If we see him, we'll take him with us," he promised her. Although the _Nova_  seemed small to those who were stuck on it for months at a time, the airship in all its entirety was actually quite large. It was built big enough to accommodate all of those in the Golden Army. It was one of the largest vessels roaming the Sea of Stars, so when the only light anyone had to see by were the red ones blinking on and off above them, and taking into account all the individual rooms, there were actually countless places for people to be or end up. If Jamie, D'gell, and Pitch ended up on some far end of the ship, too far from the stairs, then they probably wouldn't find them at all. He could only hope that that was what happened to them.

On the tenth level, by the stairs, outside the muster room, Seraphina slipped in something. Jack turned her head away and told her it was water, but he knew it wasn't the truth, and she would find that out when the lights returned. On the eighth level, there were more bodies strewn about than the others. He didn't want to think about why, so he held Seraphina against him, kept her face pressed against his shirt as he lead her through the corridor and up the next short flight of stairs. He didn't need her to ask if they were still breathing, because even he didn't know the answer to it.

It wasn't until they reached the sixth floor that they started finding signs of activity again. Jack had been so wound up until that point that he couldn't stop the sigh of relief when he heard swords clanking together, people shouting orders to others, the voices of real, live human beings still fighting. It shook his worries away that they'd already lost. They hadn't lost until the last man standing fell into a pool of his own blood. So long as there were still soldiers able to fight, the Golden Army had not lost.

Seraphina screeched suddenly at his side and Jack didn't hesitate to swing his sword around, effectively slicing through the middle of a Fearling looming over her. He cursed when the sound of her voice brought more rushing towards them, but she had done what he'd told her to do. It was harder trying to protect Seraphina and himself at the same time. It made his movements jerky, messier than they usually would have been if he was on his own, but he didn't blame her for that. He took the minor scrapes and scratches he received by his enemy's swords and sent them back. There was a time when a Fearling faded before he could attack it, reappearing behind his back, ready to strike him down before he would even notice it was there with the lights flashing in his peripherals. One loud shout of fear and resolution alerted him to the danger, but by the time he'd spun around to handle it, the Fearling had already been taken care of. Seraphina looked proud of herself.

They just made it up the stairs to the fifth level when Jack paused to assess the situation. The sounds of fighting got louder, more active, with each floor they went on. There were more conscious people on the higher levels. It was a strategy the shadows always had a tendency to use. They started from the bottom of a vessel and worked their way up, taking out any signs of life they could find on each new level.

Before he could take a step forward, someone ran at Jack from his left side. He nearly fell down the stairs when he took a step back to avoid the person crashing into him, Seraphina helping to keep him steady as they turned their attention towards the person, notably human and not shadow, turning towards them again. In a flash of the lights, as the person started towards them again, Jack's eyes widened. Stepping away from the stairs, he managed to avoid the person for a second time, catching them by the arm as they ran past, twisting it behind them and kicking in the back of their knees so he could tackle them to the ground. The person flailed and struggled under his weight, much lighter than their own, but they were grounded, so movement was limited.

Seraphina tentatively walked over to them, looking on with a pale, worried look. "Is- is that-"

"D'gell," Jack confirmed. There was no mistaking him under the lights. With his hand on the back of D'gell's shoulder, he could feel blood oozing through his fingers, sticking to the palm of his hand. There were deep gashes carved into his flesh, no doubt the work of the shadows. "He must've been poisoned. That's why he's acting like this."

Beneath him, D'gell struggled to break free, mumbling incoherent curses and phrases. Seraphina nervously shifted from one foot to the other. "Is there anything we can do? We can't leave him like this, can we?"

Putting D'gell to sleep might be worse off, but they were in a hurry. Taking a gamble on whether or not he would become a sleep walker seemed too risky, so, gesturing for Seraphina to step back, Jack quickly rose to his feet and buried his sword into the wound on D'gell's shoulder. The soldier cried out in pain, banging his fists against the floor, drawing the attention of Fearlings that started to notice the presence of other living, conscious beings. When D'gell began calming down, forehead pressed against the cool metal of the floor underneath him, breathing heavily enough for Jack to hear him, Jack aimed his sword at the Fearlings that tried to sneak up on them. They were easy enough to take down, giving him the chance to check on D'gell's condition once they were gone.

He leaned down to the other man's level, flipping him onto his back and ignoring his loud groans of pain. "D'gell, where's Jamie?" If the two of them were together when D'gell got poisoned, Jack didn't want to think about what might have happened, but he needed to make sure regardless. When he didn't get an answer right away, he dropped his sword and lifted D'gell by the front of his shirt in both hands, shaking him to keep him conscious. "Stay awake! Where's Jamie? Where is he? Where did you leave him?"

D'gell's bright eyes opened, but they still didn't seem entirely there, still lost, still searching for the familiar faces in the delusions that were probably passing before him. "Ja- Jamie? I- I-" He shouted suddenly, trying to shove Jack away from him, but the Commander held tightly to his uniform and smacked him hard across the face, desperate now. "Jamie! Jamie! Jamie!" Like a siren, that was the only word D'gell spouted, over and over again in the same loud, consistent tone.

Worried that the shadows would come around out of curiosity, Jack smacked him again in the hopes that it would bring him back to some semblance of sanity, at least temporarily. "Tell me where he is, D'gell! Tell me what happened!" His breath came shortly. He could feel vomit rising in his throat, knew that he was on the verge of hyperventilating and needed to calm down, but he _needed_  to know what happened, _needed_  to know that Jamie was okay. "Please, tell me."

Blinking owlishly, the fog cleared from D'gell's eyes, if only for a moment. When he reached towards Jack, it wasn't to push him away like before, but to bring him closer. "Jamie- Jamie, I-" He swallowed, squeezing his eyes shut. There were tears wetting his cheeks. "I think it was him," he whispered, voice so quiet that even in the close proximity, Jack had to strain to hear him. "I think it was him. Oh god, I think it was actually him."

"D'gell." Jack's hands shook. He could barely keep a grip on D'gell's shirt any longer. "Tell me."

"I thought- thought it was a Fearling. It was so big, and fucking scary- it was the biggest Nightmare Man I ever god damn saw, it was so-" He was breathless, spouting what sounded like nonsense, but Jack knew he was fighting the terrors flashing across his mind. He understood what he was going through after having gone through it himself, so he tried to be patient, but every second felt like another life leaving the vessel, and D'gell was taking too long to give his explanation. "It sounded like hi- like Jamie, but I- I didn't know. I didn't think- I thought- I thought it was a trick and I just-"

Jack lost his grip on D'gell's shirt. He couldn't speak above a whisper, distant and automatic. "What did you do?"

"I stabbed him."

The blood in Jack's veins ran cold. He moved subconsciously, his heavy body, his stiff limbs, all moving of their own accord against the empty blizzard of his mind. "Seraphina, we need-"

D'gell grabbed hold of his pant leg, tugging it to get his attention. He didn't look like he could move much more than that. "You can't go, Overland." Jack stared down at him, blank, unwavering. He didn't understand. "They know, man, they _know_. They- they trapped us back there, in- in the training room. We- we were going to the lights and we heard you calling for us, so we went running and- _shit_ , Jamie. Jamie. _Jamie_. I stabbed him. I stabbed him."

As D'gell's words set in, Jack turned towards the nearest wall, placed his hand against it to keep himself steady, and threw up everything he had left in him from lunch earlier that day. The cool surface of the metallic wall against his forehead wasn't helping when he felt numb all over. Jamie was hurt, but it wasn't because of D'gell, it was because of _him_. Everything that happened was because of him. Everything that happened in the past was because of him. And everything that happened in the future would be because of him if he didn't do something about it. He could continue the mission to turn on the lights, but all that would do is scare the shadows off, send them running and give them a chance to come back and do it all over again. He couldn't let them do it anymore. He couldn't let them hurt everyone he loved, everyone he'd ever cared for, not at his expense.

"Jack," came Seraphina's voice from nearby, so small, so shaken, "I'm scared."

And suddenly, he was on a pond in winter, watching cracks in the ice reach out towards a little girl's feet as she stared up at him the biggest, brownest eyes he'd ever seen. It was a race he wouldn't win, and he realized that as she fell through, as she sunk under, as he grabbed her arm only after it was too late.

And he was in a cave in the woods on the outskirts of the town where he lived, catching what would be the final look he would ever have at his sister's face before he would never see her again, before she would be taken away, all because he hadn't stayed behind to protect her, to save her, to be the guardian she needed him to be.

 _"Jack,"_  she'd said each time, _"I'm scared."_

He was scared, too.

Turning away from the wall, Jack shook the face of Olivia from Seraphina's frightened expression. He'd lost too many times already, he'd made too many mistakes, ruined too many lives of those he was meant to protect, but not this time. Not this time.

"Seraphina," his hands shook, but his voice remained still, "we're going to have a little fun." When she gave him a quizzical look, eyes watery with unshed tears, he smiled. He smiled despite every ounce of fear he felt darkening his insides, staining him with the familiar, sickening ink. "Yeah, it's alright. We're gonna play a game, just like we always do."

"A game?" she didn't seem convinced. She looked him over, as if worried that he may have been poisoned somehow when she wasn't looking.

He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and nodded, walking over to retrieve his sword. "Yeah, that's right." He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, let it out. "That princess soldier game, where I'm the shadow, and you defeat me, and these shadows- they're the good guys, alright?"

She still seemed skeptical, but not as afraid as she once was a moment before. "Did you knock your head on something?"

He laughed, broken and shallow, but a laugh nonetheless. He wanted to apologize, not only to her, but to Jamie, to Pitch, but there wasn't any time for that. "Come on! You wanna beat the bad guy right?" He picked her up and swung her around, dropping her with a flourish on the ground. "Well, I'm the big, bad Nightmare Man and I've got you captured! They're just trying to save you!" As if on cue, a Fearling came up from the floor. Before it could even raise its sword, Jack sliced it down the middle, laughing. "But you're mine! I'm keeping you for all my evil doing!"

Despite herself, Seraphina snorted, covering her mouth to hide a laugh. She turned her head and sniffed, wiping her tears from her eyes before they could blur her vision. When she turned back towards him, she was smiling, sword raised. "You'll never take me alive."

They ran, not towards the quarter deck, not towards the lights that would scare the shadows away, but towards the training room, where Jack knew the shadows would be waiting for him to find his friend, where he knew they would try to take what they came there for, to replace what he took away from them. He was going to be ready for it. If everything was a fault of his own, then there was only one true solution to it all. He was going to protect everyone.

As they arrived, Jack slowed to a stop, barely avoiding being nicked by Seraphina's sword as he did. She crashed into him, surprised that he stopped so suddenly when he'd been running away from her. There were bodies in the arena, but none of those nearby looked like Jamie. He moved slowly, deliberately, waiting for the onslaught that was sure to come.

"Jack!"

Just as he swiveled his head at the sound of Jamie's voice, it was already too late. The shadows rained down upon them, surrounding Jack and Seraphina, forcing their backs against the walls. His heart beat so loudly against his chest that he was afraid it would shake the ship. He could feel Seraphina pressed against his back, stuck between him and wall. She'd dropped her sword when the shadows rose up, scaring her grip loose. Her hands were pushed together, teeth chattering loudly enough for Jack to hear, breaths uneven. He never wanted to involve her, never would have brought her there if he thought he had a choice, but he couldn't have left her back there where the shadows could have taken her. Even in his new mission, her safety was his number one priority. She needed to be saved.

Haunting whispers echoed around them, a chorus of _"Jack's"_  in Jamie's voice taunting him as the shadows grew closer, a conglomerate of eerie, undulating toxins all knowing that they had the upper-hand, all knowing that they would win. It was what they knew, but not what he would allow.

"I'm the bad guy," he whispered. It was all he could manage.

"Ja- Jack?" Seraphina's hands were on him, shaking, but he shook his head, clenched his teeth.

"I'm the bad guy," he repeated. He couldn't risk a glance behind him, but he knew he had her attention. "I lead them here. I lead them here each time. Tell your dad he was right, Sera. I'm the traitor."

"Traitor?" Her voice was quivering, confused. She understood, but she didn't want to.

He wasn't going to let her argue. It was too late for that, so he drew out his sword, quickly slashing it out in front of her, eyes still on the shadows growing ever nearer. She jumped in his peripheral vision, shaking as she pushed her back further against the wall. _Traitor_ , he reminded himself, _I'm the traitor_.

The shadows moved all at once, like a tidal wave, ready to pull him under the storm-stirred sea and drown him. They were after him, not Seraphina. It was worse than he ever thought it would be, worse than the worst pain imaginable, worse than the poison that once ran through his veins, worse than his whole existence falling apart at the beginning of the universe. When the shadows fell down upon him, drowning him, choking him, forming into every orifice they could find, he didn't have the time to scream. Every breath was knocked from his body all at once. His entire core shook and cracked, his body felt ruined, dirty, _filthy, terrible, awful, horrible_.

There was screaming, but he didn't know if it was his own, or someone else's. The concept of anyone existing outside the terrors of his own body and mind was impossible to grasp. He felt like his entire being was being broken down and reformed over and over again, once for every drop of ink that spilled and stained him from the inside-out. There was no more Jackson Overland- they were foreign words of a garbled language. There was _nothing_. There was _everything_.

They came from all over the ship, every last shadow on board the Nova leaving to become one with their new vessel, to stain his skin grey and his hair black, to deconstruct the concord of his mind and replace every fiber of his being with ruins upon ruins upon ruins.

And in the midst of it all, when the end, he felt, was near, just another moment more, which felt like a century, which could have been a millennium, Jack recalled his mission.

When the last shadow became him, Jack lifted with all the strength his universe could give and struck his own sword through the flesh of his stomach.

The winds stilled.

_Jackson Overland._

That was his name.

The noise silenced. There was no pain. The nightmarish visions faded to nothing. Behind his eyes, as he closed them, it wasn't darkness he saw, but light, the brightest light he ever saw. Somewhere, somehow, he thought he knew what that meant, and he smiled, or at least he thought he did. And the light, slowly, faded, broke into a million different pieces and scattered across a night sky at a distance that he was sure he could reach if only he tried, but he didn't have the strength to bother. It was alright, he knew. He would make it there.

And as he sighed a breath he no longer held, as peace fell over him-

-a snowball smacked him in the face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END
> 
> Or, maybe that's just how it seems. And by that I mean, yes, to answer a few questions I've received, there will definitely be a sequel to this. I have the majority of it planned out, but the sequel will be a shorter, briefer thing. Regardless, I hope you all will join me for it when it's made! It shouldn't be too long before it's up, so look forward to it!
> 
> Anyway, I said there were "two chapters left." This may be the end, but there will be an epilogue following this chapter, so we're not done yet. I promise you'll want to stick around for it.
> 
> Thank you all for your comments and kudos! I hope this chapter is everything you did (and didn't) want it to be!


	28. Chapter 28

“How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”

— _A.A. Milne, Winnie the Pooh_

\--

_“You were always a trouble maker.”_

Shadows. They ransacked the _Nova_ , attacked the unwitting soldiers on board, and took all the lives they could with nothing at stake but their own ruthless existences. Pitch was with Jack when it happened, on one of the airship’s lower levels. He felt heated, but it wasn’t like a summer sun bathing his pale skin on a drowsy afternoon. It was more like the aftermath of an active volcano, lava heading down the slopes to the innocents who could do nothing but watch their homes fall to flames, their belongings, their lives. That was the slow-melting destruction he’d passed on to one of the people in the entire universe who never deserved so much as a flake of ash.

There was nothing right about what he’d done, nothing he could do or say to take back his words, his anger, his regretful, fleeting disappointment. He’d seen, clearly, the look in the younger man’s eyes when it began. It was the look of a broken jewel, cracked down the center—not yet crushed, not quite, but getting there, growing towards that inevitable shattering of his very being, with each crack webbing around the center until there would be no more footing underneath for him to hang onto. Pitch, he knew, had been the cause. And the effect would be the downfall of Jackson Overland. He knew, and still, he’d let him be. He took his duties over his own, over his daughter, over his Jack. He could have stayed by their sides, but in a moment of red flashing over icy blues he would never remember the intricacy of, he chose wrong.

_“The very first time I was confronted with you, you were already caught up in a fight with the older crew members.”_

They were defiant creatures, the shadows, but Pitch knew his way around them. He'd fought them longer than any member of his crew, met them on a mission way back when he was just a younger, spry Lieutenant. His team was meant to be on a simple exploratory mission to discover the mysterious downfall of an entire military vessel. He would never forget the look in the eyes of one of the very few soldiers left alive, a woman streaking down the halls, screeching at the top of her lungs as she swung her sword wildly around. She'd nearly taken his head off until he got her in a choke-hold and eased her to the ground. It was the first reported case of a sleepwalker.

That woman would become the Captain of his own vessel, although there were no signs of her as Pitch made his way up towards the quarter deck. He was concerned for her safety, of course. He had her on his mind, just as he had all the lives of every individual member of his crew just as clearly coursing through his head, driving his way forward as he fought tooth and nail through one shadow after another. There were hoards of them. The Nightmare Men were the worst of them all, large and frightening, looming like Pollux's tallest towers even over the spindly General. He wasn't afraid. He wasn't afraid for his own life, only the lives of the others; most notably, the lives of those he'd left behind.

_"You made a mess wherever you went. And you always laughed about it."_

Although his initial mission was to reach the quarter deck where the lights could be turned on, trying to fight his way through the thick smog the shadows cast on the lower levels seemed impossible at the time. They were fresh. They were new, with ambitions that weren't so obvious at the time, not until he heard the echoic giggling of a little girl, tinny and mechanic like that of a doll. Still, the tone of it didn't keep him from swiveling towards the sound, or from chasing towards it with all he had. He knew, he _knew_ , something was off about it, knew that it was against his better judgement to investigate a scenario that couldn't possibly occur, but still, he went. And for that, he would have more regrets.

It was a trap, naturally. Somehow, it was something he knew, but still allowed himself to fall into. In the back of his mind, as he stood front and center of the shadows existing around him, he reminded himself, not for the first time, that he was not cut out to be a General. He was never meant to be the leader of an entire Army of people, was never meant to be the one giving orders and directing his men. Even then, in that moment, he was making mistakes that he may never recover from, and because of those mistakes, his men would pay the dearest price. Truly, the end result of their endeavors would be a fault of his own, whether good or bad.

_"All those extra duties, day after day. They would never take your smile away."_

They drew him in with a threat of his daughter. As he raised his sword, readying himself for a battle he was not sure he would win, a silent apology crossed the quiet recesses of his mind. It was for Jack, whom he should have believed in enough so that he would have never been drawn into a trap of that design. It was for Jack, whom he had, once again, let down, where the younger soldier had never once done the same towards him. It was for Jack, whom would, after the entire debacle was over, be treated as he deserved, with the respect he had earned.

As if reading his unspoken thoughts, the shadows whispered the name of the soldier on his mind. It sent chills down his spine to hear Jack's name spoken by such abnormalities. It felt wrong, somehow, for a name as dear as Jack's to come out of the gaping, open maws of the Fearlings, with their hollow eyes glinting invisibly with an allure to danger, and something hidden just underneath. Perhaps they could sense the connection he had to Jack. Or maybe, they were trying to relate something to him, trying to get something across that would not come clearly from their dimwitted mimicry of a name they only barely recalled.

For a moment, Pitch thought he understood what it was they were trying to get across. He thought, for a beat of his racing heart, that they were confirming the worst of his fears, but even as he returned to the time he interrogated the wrongly accused, the resentment he felt for himself over that time drove him to dig his sword into the chest of the nearest fiend. They would not sway him. They would not bring back his doubts. Jackson Overland was no traitor.

_"I don't know why I never even considered kicking you out of my crew. Maybe I should have. Maybe it would have been easier for both of us."_

There were too many of them. The hoard swallowed him in their connectedness, all of them diving down upon him, drowning him in their depths. He felt swallowed whole, tumbling through a darkness that would never end. There would be no light at the end of the tunnel he traveled, no stars in the skies he searched. There would only be the darkness, definite and everlasting, and then there would be nothing. Nothing more.

From all around him came the garbled whispers of Jack's name coupled with the screeching, core-shaking laughter of that _damned_  doll he couldn't stand the sight of. If he ever made it out alive, he would destroy it, burn it up in flames and send it out into space as another fleck of rubble to litter the universe with. They could have killed him right away, but they were taking their time, enjoying themselves while they were still able. It was as if they knew they'd already won, even though the battle itself had only just started. It brought about a sort of deeply wrung despair that went sinking through him, piling in the pit of his stomach and sticking to the marrow in his bones like a blood that did not belong to him, yet still ran through his veins all the same. It was a terrifying sensation, leaving the General of the Golden Army shaking as he handled his grip on his sword and got a hold of himself, crying out in defiance as he rose from the thresholds of his demise and took down one shadow after another.

_"But although you were a personification of mischief, you had your talents. A swift fighter, a good sailor, a child of the eternal solar winds."_

As out of place it may seem to anyone who could overhear his thoughts, Jack was the one Pitch turned to in his time of need. Jack was his sign of stability, his Sun in a Sea of Stars. It seemed as though no matter what was thrown his way, regardless of the depths of the tragedies some other being decided to weigh his life down with, the Commander always found a way to bounce back. Pitch had spent so much of his time stewing over the death of his wife, believing the only destination his future would have is either destroying the shadows or having them do as much towards him, while Jack, _Jack_ , in all his glory, continued to live. He didn't survive, but _lived_. That was more than Pitch ever thought he would be capable of.

There was much in the vast universe of theirs to learn. Whoever could have thought that, in all his years, the best of his experiences would come in the form of a young soldier with milky hair and icy eyes? Those were the memories that would have him smiling, even as a sword clashed against his own, even as his went rocketing out of his hands and skidding across the floor too far out of reach, even as the shadows that remained rose their bloodied claws like a rioting crowd, seeking the revenge of their fallen. He could close his eyes and only one image would come to mind. That was all the motivation he would need to keep moving forward.

_"You were able to cheer up the crew even in the darkest hours. And, as always, you would laugh. I loved when you laughed."_

The taunting whispers turned from gleeful delight to malicious intent when the shadows realized their numbers were dwindling at an alarming rate. It didn't take long for Pitch to learn that he wasn't alone, that there was a familiar soldier standing at his side. A name came to him clear as day, despite his limited interactions with her. She was Senior Chief Petty Officer Millie, clad in the uniform she must have recently thrown on amongst the destruction being caused around them. With her sword in hand, she tossed him his own and they shared a look, a familiarity, an understanding. They had a connection of sorts. Regardless of how small, or how vague, it was there, and he could tell by the spark in those emerald eyes that she knew it just as well as he did. Without ever speaking so many words to one another in their entire lives, they knew facts about the other, they knew secrets, they knew.

As the congestion cleared, she tipped him a salute and went on her way, dashing down the hall as if there was somewhere she specifically needed to be. He wouldn't know what became of her after that because a flash of her ebony hair, tied high in a tail, was the last he'd ever seen of her. She would not have a body recovered from the ashes of the others. Nor would her brother, whose cell was found emptied of life, and of a body.

_"I trusted you."_

As he exited the room, Pitch came to the gruesome sight of blood littering the _Nova's_  thin, metallic floors, leaving the path down the corridor slick and uneven. He had to watch his step to keep from tripping over the stray limb falling out of a room, no doubt belonging to a sleep walker who didn't quite make it from their cabin in the midst of their raging insanity. He shuddered at the memory, ghosting his fingers over the material that hid only one of his three instances of the past.

As a child, he often counted the stars and dreamed of the day he would catch one falling. He knew, without a doubt in his youthful mind, that they would grant whatever wish he held. Whenever he would search for the fallen star, there were no thoughts in mind, not a single wish in that hopeful heart of his. He was sure that it would come to him once he reached it, that, by some magic means, some sense within him would align and it would follow the words on his tongue to speak whatever it was that would satisfy his every need. Even then, he desired perfection. Only once did he ever come to face a star, glowing and gold, just like the one Jack described, and in that time, he'd found himself speechless. Looking back, Pitch thought that maybe, that was what he'd been hoping for the entire time. The perfect wish: to see his life through to the end, however it was meant to be.

_"It was not surprising that I granted you responsibility over the most precious thing I have. It was love at first sight."_

It didn't take long for him to realize his followers. They weren't shadows, to his relief, but soldiers, careful not to stray too far behind their designated leader, as if that would make them safer somehow. He wanted to alert them of the danger, but he couldn't find a proper way to explain that he was not the beacon of safety they were seeking. There were other times the shadows swarmed them as they made their ways towards the upper decks of the airship. The creatures, the _monsters_ , would rise from the floors and sink down from the ceilings. They would form like hurricanes and back them into the eye of their storms, only to rain down upon them like hail and hell fire, taking all they could with them.

Pitch learned early on that the shadows were not like most other sentient beings. They felt, but not in the way humans did, nor animals. They were maddening beings, crazed beyond their own comprehension, hungry for the consumption of anything and everything they could reach. Their hunger was an impossibility. If they were left to their own devices, they would easily consume the lives of every thriving soul their universe could hold. They would one day blot out the stars. But that day, Pitch assured his men, would not be that day.

_"As she was on the ship, you would take care of her: give her distraction, make sure she was safe. Things on the ship calmed down a lot since then."_

Always, in a battle, there were thoughts that kept him going. He was a man driven by many things, not only by the hardships of his past, but the possibilities of the future. He fought the shadows because he wanted to give a purpose to the death of his wife. He fought them because he wanted to give a purpose to the deaths of all of those who fell at the hands of the shadows, for those who had their lives shattered by the loss of their loved ones, for those who couldn't find the strength to keep going like he did, who found it too impossible to grasp the motivation to keep moving forward when all around them was despair. He fought for the future of his daughter. He fought so she could live a life without fear, even if it meant she wouldn't have a father at her side to live it with her. That was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

Only- Only, that was wrong. He'd learned that. He'd learned that the shadows were not the only ones who could cause misery to the ones he loved. Seraphina was his entire heart and soul and it would always be that way, which is why he should have seen the pain in that heart of his, in that soul of his, in the love and life he had built in her and for her. He should have seen that he was taking the parts of her present to build her a better future, leaving her in a pile of wreckage with no shelter to cover her head from the storms of her loneliness.

As he faltered on the step towards another floor, Pitch reminded himself of his promise. If this battle was a test, and if he were to be given a second chance as his life, he would do it differently when it was all over. He would still fight, he would still command the Golden Army as its General, he would still travel the cosmos in search of any shadow he could possibly destroy, but he would also take the time to love his daughter, and with her, Jack, as well.

_"It was interesting to see, that she was able to exhaust you more than any night of galley service. I never worried about her, because I knew you would protect her."_

The first time Pitch reached his office, stepping quickly through the sliding doors with a small team of soldiers behind him, he felt light on his feet. There was a confidence that hadn't been there before, an assurance that he had, once again, defeated the shadows, that he had saved his crew from their tyranny. It was nothing to celebrate, he knew. There was blood staining the ends of his uniform and even on the uppermost floor of the airship, the air was thick with the cries of the fallen and of the falling. He wasted no time in hitting in the command that would turn on the lights and relieve their situation, but nothing happened. Nothing.

The breaths in the room were held in sync. As time drew on, as the lights never came to be, the tension rose like a thick musk, tainted with the rustic stench of blood traveling through the vents. Their gazes met for only a moment before passing on towards the door. If their last resort wasn't going to work, it didn't mean they were doomed. They were soldiers, after all, trained in a special area of combat. They knew how to deal with the shadows, regardless of how many there were. There was a younger soldier, a Private—he wasn't wearing his badge, but Pitch could tell just by the look of him—saying a praying under his breath even as he followed the group out of the room, the lot of them charging down the hall with their swords raised. But Pitch could only shake his head and utter a quiet laugh under his breath. He knew that the outcome of their lives would not be left to fate. It didn't matter if they were _meant_  to win. If all was lost, then that's how it would be.

_"And you did."_

He never saw that Private again that night, but he saw him later. A spiteful man might resent that his life continued when there was another who would never again see the light of day, but Pitch was not that man. In fact, there was a piece of Pitch that wanted to embrace him and cry tears of joy for his safe return after the battle they endured. Any breath of life still being made after any sort of tragedy, big or small, was a miracle in and of itself. That was a lesson Pitch had learned as a soldier.

There was a constant fear playing in the back of his mind, a nagging regret that maybe they wouldn't win that one. They wouldn't be the first to fall to the shadows and he doubted that, if they fell at all, they wouldn't be the last.

_"You...did."_

It was back on a lower floor that Pitch heard a familiar name being called. There were no shadows on that floor, none that he could see, but it was the same name they'd been calling to him whenever he found himself alone with them. The way it left their mouths was almost aggressive, as if they hoped to make a mar on his life just by their words alone. So it was to his surprise that, by following the quiet echoing name, it wasn't a gathering of shadows trying to lure him into another trap, but a soldier, lying flat on his back on the ground. The soldier's light eyes were what alerted Pitch to his location; otherwise, he blended with the ever-present darkness blinking in and out of the airship's interior, dancing a rhythm with the eerie red lights that only felt like a betrayal anymore, rather than the warning they were meant to be.

The man, dirtied in his own blood, looked half-dazed, murmuring a combination of words on a constant repeat, mingling with the lights as if speaking against a metronome. They were mostly consistent whispers of _"Overland,"_  with the occasional, more frantic, _"Jamie,"_  thrown in. Although he never made an attempt to grab the soldier's attention, his brightly lit gaze shot to Pitch's own, like a bullet unloading from a gun. The sight of it struck the General straight to his core without even fathoming why.

The soldier told him to try the lights. He was out of his mind about it. It was clear he'd been poisoned, but somehow, even knowing that, Pitch couldn't find it in himself to think, for even a moment, that what the soldier said was lunacy. There was a point where Pitch tried to explain that the safety mechanism was a bust—probably because the back-up generators were down—but he failed, faltering to even get the explanation out when the man seemed _so sure_  that Pitch was wrong, that he _needed_  to check again. And after that, after spending no more than a minute or two by the mad man's side, the solder returned to his whispers of the name Pitch not only knew well, but held dear to his heart. He would try the lights a second time. Perhaps, by some miracle, they would return.

_"I'm so sorry."_

And, by some miracle, they did.

They _did_.

The lights, in all their glory, flashed on when Pitch tried them a second time. There were no sounds of celebration, no cheers of victory ringing through the vents to reach his ears, but he felt a silent delight within him. The blindingly bright lights were not only a safety mechanism, but a symbol of the Golden Army's triumph over the shadows yet again. As he turned the lights off, sure that the shadows on board had fled the ship by then, he thought of the Private. Maybe there was something to that faith of his. Maybe the success they achieved was the success they were meant to have all along.

The corridors were quiet as he hurried through them, shouting the names of the ones he desired to see above all else. There were duties he needed to tend to, but nothing else mattered besides seeing that his loved ones were safe. He hurried all throughout the halls, passing the lines of stoic bodies piled against the walls, calling their names, frantic, uneven, desperate, because any one of those bodies could turn out to belong to the _wrong_  ones-

And when he saw her- _Oh_ , when he saw her, it was like giving him breath after a long state of suffocation. He dropped to his knees and held his daughter, his love, his darling Seraphina, close. For a dreadful, fleeting moment of time, he was back in his marbled mansion, holding her against his chest as she cried over the fear she'd felt in his absence. He felt the dragging, despairing sense of failure that he had not been there for her in a time when she needed him most. And this time, he swore, he wouldn't repeat his mistakes. He would not leave her behind again.

There was a nagging thought in mind, having seen her rushing towards him all on her own.

He never would have let her go if she hadn't pulled away herself, and even before she could get a word to leave her quivering lips, he could see it in her eyes. Even before he looked to see where it was she pointed, he thought, perhaps, this scene was more familiar than he could have feared.

_"I'm so sorry that I was never able to tell you what I really thought about you. And now you're here and all your stories are told. Where once was your laughter, there is only silence now."_

Jack. _His_  Jack, lying beneath the soil of the fallen, buried below a stone with his name, his rank, and a moon, not only to show his participation in the Golden Army, but his absence in it, as well. There were lit candles, flickering in the windless afternoon, left by someone that Pitch did not know. The wax had nearly burned all the way down into the ground, showing it had been some time since the person last visited. Somehow, it was comforting to know that the young Commander was being visited by those who loved him. Pitch could only hope that the others showed it better than he ever did.

He supposed he could have felt anger at the tragedies that had befallen him; he supposed he could have called it unfair and cursed the stars he lived under, but there would have been no good in doing so. There was someone he knew who tried the same, and still left the world with a smile on his face- and that was what Pitch would remember. His smile. His laugh. His words. His impact on Seraphina's life and his own that would stand as ever-lasting. Jackson Overland was gone, but he would not be forgotten, not as long as the stars kept their lights in the shadows of the night sky. No, he would not be forgotten.

_"I hope we will meet again, in another life."_

And while Pitch never knew, and will now never know, if his feelings had ever been the same, his only regret would be that he never told Jack he loved him.

_"And maybe..."_

If fate did have a play on their lives, perhaps, in a distant world, in a distant time, they would cross paths again. And in this world, with this second chance, he could only hope they would have less time to fight and more time to love.

_"Maybe everything will be better this time."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue: End.
> 
> Story: End.
> 
> I know I've said this a million times already, but thank you all for your comments and kudos! It's been so fun to start writing again and I've enjoyed writing for this every step of the way. The story is over now, so I'm sorry that there won't be anymore updates. ~~However, as I mentioned before, I have a small sequel planned that you can look forward to! The first chapter of the sequel should be out either this upcoming Saturday or the Saturday after that, no later.~~
> 
> Update as of August 14, 2016: Since I've received many questions concerning the sequel, I'd like to make a more formal announcement here that there will likely be no sequel. I'm very sorry! I had plans to make it and notes written up for one, but shortly after lost my interest in writing, and by now my immediate interests have moved on to other fandoms. Thank you all so much!


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